Color Me Cool
by oneoneohohone
Summary: unsure of herself, her future, and the future of the business she runs, a little voice inside of kristy's head screams for change. prequel to 'before we grow up.' wip
1. Chapter 1

**description**: unsure of herself, her future, and the future of the business she runs, a little voice inside of kristy's head screams for change. does she listen? you already know the answer if you read "before we grow up," but by popular demand both by readers and my brain, this is kristy's story.

**a/n**: again, written as if mallory never went to riverbend, mary anne's house never burned down. i'm probably not going to be updating this every day... maybe once a week? i have the dawn story, too, people! STOP PRESSURING ME! (i know, nobody cares, teehee.)

**disclaimer**: not mine. except the stuff that is.

**rated t** for security purposes. i do not have the ability to write a story that doesn't involve sex, drug use, and terrible fucking language. onward!

* * *

One.

I can't do this.

Nope, can't do it.

Looking around at my friends, seeing them so relaxed, frustrated me. Well, okay, they weren't all relaxed. Mary Anne looked nervous. Not scared, though. None of them looked like I felt.

I'm terrified. I hate it when things change. I hate not knowing what is going to happen. Most of all, I hate not feeling in control of myself. Which is just how I feel right now.

A piece of my hair fell into my eye for about the fifth time. Aggravated, I pushed it back. I should have just worn a ponytail, but I wanted to look nice for the first day of the End of My Life, so I'd let Mary Anne curl it.

I looked down at my watch. 8:23. The bell would be ringing in twelve minutes. Why start it at 8:35? Why not 8:30? I don't understand schools at all.

Around me, my friends were chattering excitedly. Stacey, Claudia, and Mary Anne were excited because they all had the same homeroom. Not me, though. I was all by myself, as far as I knew. I'm sure I'd recognize at least one person, but... it didn't seem fair that the three of them all got to be together. I wondered if maybe Abby would be in my homeroom. I don't really know if I care, she's been kind of distant all summer. The only other person I considered a friend at SMS was Logan, but... it would be weird to hang out with him. Mary Anne wouldn't like that at all.

Why don't I have any other friends?

I've never stopped to consider it. I mean, just a few months ago there were so many of us in the club I felt like I had all the friends I'd ever need. Slowly, though, the club began to break down, until summer, when we were left with only five members. Then Mallory had announced she was done with the club, that she wanted to focus on her writing and stuff. Really I think she just felt like a bit of a baby compared to the rest of us.

So now it's the four of us, and I have a feeling that won't last. We're in high school now. Things are going to be different. We'll all stay friends, of course, but I know the club isn't going to live much longer. Already we've taken meetings down to two days a week, Monday and Friday.

A bell rang and I snapped out of my daze. Stacey squealed. "It's time!"

She, Claud and Mary Anne all grabbed hands. Mary Anne held out hers to mine and I smiled thinly. "I'm going in the opposite direction." I lamented.

Mary Anne made a pouty face, and I detected a mist of tears in her eyes. "Oh.. Kristy. I'm sorry. Do you want me to walk you?"

Such a sweetheart. "Yeah, that'd be great. Then you can be late to homeroom on your very first day of high school. Don't worry," I went on, waving her away. I plastered a smile on my face. "I'll be fine. I'll meet you guys at lunch if we don't have any classes together, okay?"

I walked away quickly, not wanting them to see just how sad I really was. I wanted to cry a little, but did not dare. Mary Anne had swiped mascara on my eyelashes after she'd curled my hair, despite my protests. I've seen what happens to girls who cry with makeup on. No thanks. Plus if I started crying I'd probably get my head dunked in a toilet by a senior. Technically, the seniors aren't allowed to haze us freshman, but I've heard horror stories.

I found my homeroom without issue. I'd paid close attention on the tour. I slipped into a seat near the back, looking around. There were only seven other kids in there besides me, so far. Ashley Wyeth was one of them. I wanted to make a face, but she gave me a small wave. I gave one back. I don't like Ashley. She's very... weird.

I watched the door for other familiar faces, dismayed every time someone I didn't recognize walked through. Finally, just after the final bell rang, Miranda Schillabar ran in. She looked around the room. There were still several empty seats, including one next to me. I guess a lot of people are getting lost. I waved at Miranda, even though we really haven't hung out since seventh grade. She smiled, looking relieved, and slid into the seat next to me. "Kristy." She said. "Thank God. I was worried I wouldn't know anybody."

The teacher, who's name was Mr. Glassman, stood up behind his desk, looking around. "We're still missing a few. I'm going to give them another five minutes. You guys can relax. Get to know each other." He said with a smile.

I looked around the room for the first time. This was an English classroom, that much was obvious. The walls were lined in books and posters. Written on the board behind Mr. Glassman were the words "The Freshman's Guide To High School Survival." I pointed it out to Miranda, and we giggled nervously.

Once all of the students were in, Mr. Glassman handed us out schedules, and explained how our first day would go. Homeroom, normally only fifteen minutes, was extended to forty, and each class was cut down by five minutes to make up for it. Tomorrow we would begin the normal schedule. I skimmed my classes, noticing happily that first period was English, and it was right here. I wouldn't have to move yet. Things were looking up.

Miranda compared her schedule to mine. We had the same Algebra II class, as well as P.E. together. I wondered if Stacey would be in Algebra II, as well. I don't think so. She's probably already in Calculus, knowing her skills.

We paid close attention as Mr. Glassman gave his silly presentation, explaining how getting lost would not, in fact, cause sudden death, and telling us to think of a senior couple making out in the hallway as wild bears and not to get to close or make sudden movements. I spent the entire forty minutes giggling, my fears melting away. I've never had a teacher like this guy before. I'm glad I'm in his class.

The bell rang and Miranda stood up, still looking nervous. "Whish me luck." She said seriously, taking a deep breath.

"Good luck. I'll see you in Algebra!" I called to her, keeping my eyes on the door as she left. Waiting for my friends. Come on. Somebody. Anybody.

Sensing movement next to me, I looked over and was dismayed to see Ashley sitting next to me. She actually moved to be by me. "I have this class first period, too." She said in a bit of a serious, slightly snobby tone. "My art class isn't until eighth. Last class of the day! The art department here is mediocre, compared to Keyes. I went to Keyes, in Chicago? Before I moved here? Claudia probably told you."

I stared at Ashley, dumbfounded. I glanced backwards. "Who are you talking to?"

Ashley cocked her head. "You." She said, a little surprised. "Who else would I be talking to? I don't know anybody."

"You don't know _me_!" I exclaimed.

"Sure I do. You're Kristy. You're not still president of that silly club, are you?"

"I didn't mean... I know you know who I am, but you've only spoken to me like three times!" I didn't feel like defending the BSC to Ashley Wyeth. I've done it before.

Ashley looked a bit hurt. I pushed away a smidge of guilt that crept into my brain. "Just because we're not best friends doesn't mean I can't talk to you. Or do you speak to people outside of that club?"

"Of course I do." I snapped, more annoyed that she'd tapped my earlier thoughts than by Ashley herself. Deciding it was time for a subject change, my eyes fell to her feet, which were clad in what appeared to be Army combat boots. She was wearing a full length skirt covered in flowers, and a blouse that looked like it belonged on a pirate. "Didn't you used to wear work boots?"

"I like the statement these make. The suggestion of war, of peace, of obedience. They call upon people to listen." Ashley swung her hair to the side, revealing her ear. Last year she had three holes pierced in each ear. Well, now her left ear was covered in earrings all the way to the top. I counted nine. They were all spikes. I shook off the temptation to touch one, see if they really were sharp.

What a freak.

The bell rang, and I looked around, hoping for familiar faces. Save for Alan Gray (gag me) there were none. Mr. Glassman began covering what we would be learning this year, and I perked up, paying attention.

Ashley sat next to me, slumped in her seat. She was twirling a piece of string around her pen, looking bored.

Halfway through the class, a crumpled piece of paper bounced off of my shoulder and landed on my desk. I immediately shot Alan a Death Stare. He crossed his eyes at me and mouthed "read it."

Glowering, I discreetly opened the paper.

_Nice to see you again, dork._

Rolling my eyes, I crumbled it back up and returned my attention to the front. Alan left me alone. When the class ended, I quickly told Ashley goodbye and went off in search of my next class.

Maybe I would find one of my friends there.

* * *

I was quickly learning that high school could be disappointing.

Not only did I not have any friends in second, but also none in third. I arrived at fourth, Algebra II, a little bitter. I knew Miranda would be in this class, but none of my friends would. I spotted Miranda toward the back of the room. She had her purse sitting on the desk next to her, and when she saw me she grinned and pointed to it.

"I saved you a spot." She said with a smile as I slid into the chair.

"Thanks." I said, feeling grumpy. And hungry. At least we had lunch next. I watched the door, as I had in my previous classes, knowing full well that none of my friends would be coming through it.

Miranda nudged me as a boy was walking in. "Hot." She muttered.

I studied him, not really interested. He was tall and kind of skinny, with longish, shaggy hair. He wore baggy jeans and a shirt that said "The Ramones". "Who is he?" I asked her quietly. He was coming near us.

"Derek Higgins. He's a sophmore. My brother hung out with him last year. He's–" She cut off as derek took the seat directly behind us. She leaned toward me. "He's kind of a bad boy, but I've always thought he was cute." She whispered, so quiet I could barely hear her above the chatter in the hallway.

I snuck a glance back at him. He was looking out the window, bobbing his head to headphones. "He's okay, I guess." I told her, not quite whispering. He probably couldn't hear us, anyway.

"Shhh!" Miranda exclaimed.

"What? He's wearing headphones. He's–" I snuck another glance his way.

He's looking right at me, smiling.

I cut off, my face heating up. I turned toward the front immediately. The bell rang. It's over. That never happened.

About ten minutes into the class, the teacher was droning away and I was already starting to lose interest. That's when I felt a tug on my hair. Barely noticeable.

Oh, no. He's another Alan.

I pretended not to notice. Sure enough, a few moments later, I felt another tug. Then a whisper. "Hey. Curly."

Biting my lip, I turned around slowly. I don't know what my plan was. Maybe to let him have it.

"What?" I asked rudely.

Derek smiled, his brown eyes warm. "I like your shirt."

I looked down. On the front was a picture of a bulldog in a spiked collar. On the back it said "My dog can beat up your dog." Stacey had nearly screamed when she saw me wearing it, saying I looked like a ten year old. I'd paired it with a pair of jeans and a studded belt. The studded belt was dressy, for me. I didn't see what was wrong with the shirt. And I'm right.

"Thanks." I told him with a forgiving grin. He'd paid me (or my shirt) a compliment. He couldn't be that bad.

I turned back toward the front and tried to pay attention, but mostly I fidgeted. Derek was staring at me. I could feel it. Miranda kept passing me little pieces of paper that had kissy faces and hearts drawn on them. I don't remember much having to do with Algebra.

When the bell rang I was almost sad, but Miranda stuck by my side as we ran into the hall. We discovered that our lockers were only about five feet apart. She was gushing about Derek and about how he likes me, while I just blushed. He didn't like me. He'd just liked my shirt.

We shoved our way through the crowd to the cafeteria, and got in line. "Do you want to eat with us?" I asked her once we were there.

"With who?" She asked.

"The Baby-Sitters Club!" I exclaimed. Like, who else?

"Oh." Miranda looked a little disappointed. "Uh... yeah. Sure. Why not."

We bought our food and I led Miranda to a table that Mary Anne had staked out. She grinned as we approached. "Kristy! Hey, Miranda! How are you? Where's your sister?"

"She's with her friends, I guess..." Miranda sounded a little uncomfortable. Strange.

I sat down and shoved a bunch of stuff - books, purses, randomness, out of the way. A combination of Mary Anne, Stacey, and Claudia's stuff, to make it apparent that the table was taken. "Did you guys all get here at the same time?"

"Yeah! We all have the same fourth period French. Cool, right?" Mary Anne sat down as well, gushing about her morning. I motioned for Miranda, who was still standing with her hand on a chair, to sit. She did so stiffly.

I bit into the egg salad sandwich I'd bought. Unlike SMS, you could pick from a million things to buy and eat. It was actually pretty good, too. I began to wolf it down as Mary Anne went on adn on. I began to tune her out, and wondered what was wrong with Miranda. She picked at her salad, occasionally nodding at Mary Anne.

Someone set a tray beside me and I remembered I had news. "Omigod!" I said through a mouthful. "I almost forgot. The strangest thing happened in Algebra--"

I looked up, expecting Claudia or Stacey.

They don't wear Ramones shirts, though.

"What happened in Algebra?" Derek asked, feigning eagerness.

Miranda snorted in laughter.

Mary Anne looked confused.

I wanted to die.

"I... uh..."

"Uhhh..." Derek mocked, his eyes still warm. He sat down and tugged my hair again. "What's your name, anyway, Curly?"

"Kristy." I said quietly, taking another bite of my sandwich.

"Kristy. Well, I'm Derek. I know Miranda. You are...?" He motioned to Mary Anne.

"Mary Anne. I'm Kristy's best friend." She said with a small, shy smile.

Claudia and Stacey plopped down at that moment, jabbering away. Saved by the bell. Derek would take one look at them and leave me alone.

They carried on their conversation, something about Paris (though the city or the heiress, I'm not quite sure) for about two full minutes before acknowledging there were other people at the table. Finally Stacey looked around and said "Oh. Hi?"

I introduced them to Derek. He merely smiled at them, then looked back toward me. Smiling. With those warm brown eyes of his.

He didn't seem interested in Stacey or Claudia at all. That sent a few shivers up my spine. This guy, this cute _sophmore_ guy, had looked right at two of the most gorgeous, sophisticated girls in our grade and still appeared to be interested in _me._ Tomboy Kristy Thomas, the baby of the Baby-Sitters Club.

I didn't say much. Derek and Miranda talked a little, and Mary Anne, Claudia, and Stacey chattered away. When Derek finished his food he stood up slowly. "So, I'll see you ladies tomorrow, I guess. I hope the reception is just as warm." he walked away, tugging my hair once _again_ as he did. "See you in class, Curly." He called over his shoulder.

"What's that supposed to mean, 'I hope the reception is just as warm.'?" Claudia asked.

"It means he's a jerk. A burnout. _So_ not your type, Kristy." Stacey replied.

I looked at Mary Anne, who was nodding a little. Then I looked at Miranda.

She shrugged at me. "Derek is really cool." She told Stacey, sounding a little miffed. "He's been a friend of my brothers for a long time."

"Hmmph." Was all Stacey could say.

The bell rang, and we all went our separate ways before a fight could break out.

I spent the rest of the day in a bit of a haze. Stacey was in my Earth Science class, which was seventh period. I sat by her, but didn't really talk to her. What she'd said earlier had bothered me a little bit.

Eighth was P.E. It was nice to see Miranda again, who'd gone back to her Homeroom/Algebra self. She gushed about Derek and how I should totally date him. I listened and laughed a few times. She can be really funny.

When school let out I hurried for the bus, which I knew would leave quickly. I could take the late bus, but I didn't really want to be around my friends right then. As I boarded I spotted a mountain of curly brown hair sitting in the very back.

Abby.

Our eyes met, and she gave me a little smile. It was nice, but didn't feel very friendly. I sighed, slumping into a seat near the front and staring out the window. How do you just stop being friends with someone? When did it happen? I certainly didn't agree to it.

As the bus began to pull away, I spotted Mary Anne, Stacey, and Claudia walking down the road, away from the school. Together. Chatting excitedly. Friends. Who had apparently forgotten about me. I hope that's not true. I hope they just assumed I was on this bus.

When the bus stopped on McLelland I jumped off and tore down the street toward home, not wanting to talk to Abby. I ran up the driveway and into the house, nearly tripping over Shannon. She likes to lay in front of the door.

I chugged to a stop in the kitchen, where I found Mom, grinning widely. I flopped into a chair and she set a plate of cookies on the table and sat down with me. "So how was it?"

"Not bad." I said, shoving a cookie into my mouth. "I shouldn't have been so scared. I like my English teacher a lot."

"Good. So no problems?"

I didn't feel like telling her about how Stacey had been kind of cold to Derek and Miranda, and how I was afraid Claudia and Mary Anne may follow suit. "Nope, no problems. Hey Mom?"

"Yes, honey?" She asked, taking a bite out of a cookie as well.

"Can I use your curling iron tomorrow?"

Mom coughed, choking on her cookie. I slapped her on the back. "You want to use my curling iron?" She sputtered.

"Well, yeah..." I held out a lock of my hair, still wavy after the day at school. Mom had dropped me off at Mary Anne's house at seven this morning for these curls. "I mean, I just wanted to look nice for the first day, but I kind of like it, you know?"

Mom raised her eyebrows. I am, after all, her daughter that she'd given up on getting to be girly. "Of course you can use it." She said softly, fighting a smile. I could just imagine that internal conversation. _Don't get your hopes up. It's just a curling iron._

_

* * *

_

The next morning, I was already awake when my alarm blared at six in the morning.

"_Twenty twenty twenty four hours agooo, I wanna be sedated!_"

I glanced at my clock radio, creeped out. The Ramones. It must be a sign.

I had washed an blown dry my hair the night before, so I jumped out of bed and immediately burst into my bathroom. There it was, Mom's curling iron, sitting next to the sink. I carefully brushed the knots caused by tossing and turning, then unwrapped the cord from the iron, plugging it in. I switched it on, testing the clamp out a bit. I've really never done this. I've seen it done plenty, though.

I waited impatiently for the little light to stop blinking. Mom explained that's how you know it's heated all the way. I grabbed a strand of my hair, about an inch wide, that's what I'd watched Mary Anne do, and wrapped my hair around the barrel. I waited thirty seconds or so, and released it. My hair sprung out in a perfect curl.

This isn't so hard. I continued, painstakingly. The girls would be proud. I have no patience for this stuff. As I waited, I played with the curled strands, tugging at them, picturing Derek's warm brown eyes. _Hey, Curly._

I felt a sharp pain in my forehead, and made the mistake of contemplating it for a few seconds. When I realized it was a _burning_ pain I gasped and released the latest strand from the clamp. I set down the curling iron and inspected my face in the mirror. On my forehead, I could already see a bright red welt. Oh, no. What did I do?

I sized myself up. Okay. My hair is half curled. I can't stop. What's done is done. I'll deal with the burn later. I went on meticulously curling each strand, being careful not to daydream. Focus. Keep your eye on the ball.

After what felt like hours, I released the final strand from the jaws. I sighed in relief, then shook my head, ran my fingers through, and spayed a generous amount of hairspray on. Everything Mary Anne had done. I surveyed myself in the mirror. Not bad, for a rookie. I glanced at the red welt on my forehead. One strand of hair fell over it a little. I tugged it further into place. It got in my eyes a little, but it covered the wound. My battle scar. I would say that I won this fight.

I ran around my room, getting dressed. Jeans, T-shirt (this one was camouflage with "ARMY" blazed across the front in red. I'm sure Ashley will be proud.) and belt. I choose my studded belt again, and throw on my black converse. I surveyed myself in my full-length mirror briefly, and, satisfied, ran downstairs. I dashed into the kitchen, clipping my watch. Seven forty five. My bus was coming in five minutes. I hate hate _hate_ to be late.

"Bye everyone!" I called out, grabbing a package of Poptarts and running out the door.

If I'm going to do this tomorrow I'll have to get up earlier.


	2. Chapter 2

Two.

When I got to school, my friends were not in front of the building waiting for me.

It's not like we agreed on it or anything. But I'd kind of been expecting it, the bus pulling up and the three of them in the same spot we'd occupied yesterday, talking and laughing, watching for the bus. I guess that's a little selfish of me, to expect that of them.

So I strode into SHS alone, keeping my head up but feeling a little low. I didn't see Miranda at her locker. The bell rang too soon for me to go searching, and I ducked into homeroom lonely. It didn't help that as soon as I took a seat near the back on the opposite side that Ashley Wyeth was on, she picked up her books and plopped down at the desk next to me, apparently unaware that I may have chosen this spot for a reason. I looked over at her but decided not to be rude, so I kept my mouth shut. Instead I set my books on the empty desk to my left, as Miranda had done for me in Algebra.

"My art class yesterday was mildly interesting." Ashley began. She looked me over. "Your hair is curled again. And you're almost showing your midriff. What happened to you this summer?" She asked, sounding genuinely interested.

"Nothing _happened._" I replied vehemently. "I just got tired of looking the same all the time, okay?"

Ashley shrugged. "Well, Claudia was in my class, so it's nice to have someone actual _talent_ around..."

I tuned her out. Just as the bell rang, Miranda came bounding into the room, looking around wildly. When she saw me, and her saved spot, she broke out in a grin.

"Thank you _so_ much." She whispered as she sat, handing me my books. "I woke up late, almost didn't make it. You look great, by the way."

I touched my hair self-consciously. "Am I being too obvious?" I whispered back as Mr. Glassman turned on the T.V. for the SHS morning news. I don't care if Miranda realizes I'm doing this because of Derek.

"Well..." Miranda had raised her voice, the T.V. drowning out our whispers. "I mean, it's not like _he_ knows you, so..."

"He who?" Ashley asked from my other side. I looked over and she was leaning as far as she could over her desk. How nosy.

"Derek Higgins? He's a sophomore. Soooo hot." Miranda gushed.

"Miranda!" I exclaimed.

Miranda blinked innocently. "What? It's just Ashley."

"Tired of looking the same, huh?" Ashley gloated.

I buried my face in my arms, lying on my desk. "Please." I mumbled. "Kill me."

"Now, what fun would that be?" Ashley asked, tousling my hair. "You look good, Kristin-"

I sat up quickly. "What did you call me?"

"Kristin. It's your name, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but–"

"I prefer to call people by their given name. Nicknames are so degrading and childish. Anyway, you look good. He'll be falling all over himself."

My mouth opened, then closed. Here I was, in high school, sitting between Miranda Schillabar and Ashley Wyeth, with curly hair, being called _Kristin_ and talking about boys.

I'm not quite sure how this happened.

At that point I desperately missed Mary Anne, and hoped that high school would not dull our friendship. If anyone could talk to me about this, it's her. A few months ago I was concerned about how everything was about to change, from the BSC to my brother going to college, starting high school, turning fourteen, all of it. It was starting to feel like, on only my second day, everything _is_ changing. Where are my friends? Where is my ponytail? What am I _doing_?

Ashley and Miranda both fell silent, probably worried that they had offended me. Did they? I'm not quite sure. Were they my friends, or were they just humoring me because we have some classes together? Why didn't I call Mary Anne last night to chat? Or Stacey? Or Claudia? Why am I avoiding Abby?

_Maybe you're finally growing up. _

I sighed, wondering if that little nagging voice could be right. Am I growing up? It certainly feels like it.

"So, what should I say to Derek?" I asked, looking back and forth between the two girls who might be my friends. They both lit up immediately, leaning toward me.

* * *

Unfortunately, when we got to Algebra, Derek was not there.

How sad. Sick on his second day. Poor Derek. I spent most of the class daydreaming about looking up his number after school and calling to see how he was. I wouldn't do it, of course, but a Kristy who wasn't quite so afraid of boys would. Kristy will do anything that comes to mind. Except when it comes to boys.

I missed him, a little. I was disappointed. All the effort, everything, had been for nothing. I sighed to myself, wondering if I should bother tomorrow. This is ridiculous. What am I doing?

I walked sullenly to my locker, Miranda beside me but saying nothing. She could tell I was down. I stuffed my Algebra book in the cramped space and dug out my homework so far. This may only be the first real day, but the teachers were cutting no slack on the homework. Next period, after lunch, I have Study Hall. Ashley was there yesterday, but I managed to avoid her. I wondered I would do the same today.

Someone tapped my shoulder and I slammed my locker shut. "I'm coming," I said a little grouchily, immediately feeling bad. She's been nothing but nice to me. "Sorry Miranda, I-"

As I spun around I can face to face with the Slipknot logo. I looked up to find that shaggy hair and those warm brown eyes.

"Derek!" I gasped, and almost groaned at my excitement. _Be cool, almost aloof. _Ashley had advised me. _Just like you were being yesterday. _Miranda had added.

I wasn't being cool or aloof yesterday. I'd just been disinterested and then embarrassed. Like now. Embarrassed.

"I... I thought you were sick. Or something." Very clever, Kristy.

Derek smiled. I almost died. Again. "Naw. I wasn't in the mood for math, you know?"

"Oh, yeah, I know." I agreed. As if I would ever dream of skipping a class.

Miranda appeared at Derek's side. "Lunch, guys. Remember? Let's go."

Derek smiled, reached out, and tugged on of my curls. Then he turned toward the lunchroom. Miranda and I skittered after him, her giggling and me about to throw up.

"Just be cool. Be cool. Relax." Miranda kept repeating to me, almost like a mantra. And it worked. By the time we reached the lunchroom I _was_ relaxed. Derek immediately headed for the line. Miranda and I followed, even though she had brought her lunch today. Something about SHS not having enough low fat options. When we stood behind him, Derek spun around, shooing us away. "Just tell me what you want, Curls." He said with a grin. "Go sit down. I'll bring it over."

"I-uh... " I sputtered, shocked and quite pleased. He paying? This is almost, like, a date, right? "Whatever you get is fine." I mumbled, backing away slowly. He smiled and winked, turning back toward the line. I grabbed Miranda's arm. "What does that mean whatdoesthatmean?"

"Omigod Kristy!" She squealed, a little too loudly. "He totally likes you! This is so cool. Come on, let's go sit. Your friends will be totally impressed. And_ jealous._" She added a little meanly.

I didn't exactly blame her for feeling that way. My friends hadn't exactly been warm and welcoming with her yesterday. Well, Stacey and Claud, anyway.

We got to the table. Stacey, Claudia, and Mary Anne were already seated, eating happily. Their French class must be close to the cafeteria.

"Hi guys." Claudia said, talking around a mouthful of brownie.

"Where's your lunch, Kristy?" Mary Anne asked. At least she swallowed first.

"Uh-"

"_Derek_ is getting it for her." Miranda stabbed in, grinning spitefully.

They did not look impressed.

"Who's Derek?" Stacey asked.

"Is he paying?" Claudia wondered.

"I hope he's not playing a prank on you..." Mary Anne said softly. I'm sure she was thinking about Alan Gray.

"Derek is the guy that sat with us... _me, _yesterday. Yes, he's paying, and no, it's not a prank." I replied irritably, flopping into a chair. I crossed my arms over my chest. Not a good start.

"Kristy, I already told you, he's a burnout. He's not your type." Stacey said with a wave of her hand, as if she were shooing the subject away.

"It's kind of sweet that he's buying, though." Mary Anne added, giving me a reassuring smile.

"I like your hair." Claudia offered, wiping brownie crumbs from her mouth. "Did your mom do it?"

"No. She did it herself." Miranda spoke up, sounding irritated as well. She frowned at me. I know what she's thinking. They're not very nice.

"You did it _yourself_?" Stacey gasped, sounding horrified. "Kristy, you don't _like_ that guy, do you?"

Of course, Derek chose that moment to sit next to me.

I looked over at him, my mouth hanging open, at loss for words for the millionth time in two days. He smiled and shrugged, sliding a tray over to me. It contained chicken nuggets and french fries, with a can or Coke. His tray was identical.

Stacey was still looking at me expectantly, as if Derek didn't exist. And he didn't, not in her world.

That's it. "So what if I do?" I snapped, shoving a nugget into my mouth and chewing furiously. Derek grinned.

"So what if she does?" He asked Stacey casually. As if they were in the middle of a conversation.

"You," She replied cooly, "are bad news. I've heard about you. I've dated a few guys in your class."

"And _you_," Derek replied just as cooly, "are a frigid little tease. I'm in the same class as a few of the guys you've dated."

Stacey's mouth dropped open. Claudia dropped a spoonful of pudding on the table. Mary Anne gasped. Miranda gloated. I didn't get it. What does that mean, frigid? I know what tease means, and I know Stacey does that. She tends to pride herself on it. So what Derek just said must be at least partly true.

And I am not happy with her at the moment. So I decided to be a jerk, too. "Your reputation precedes you, Stace." I added coldly, standing up.

Stacey just gaped at me, unbelieving of what I had just said. What does she expect? I'm the obnoxious loudmouth of the group, aren't I?

I grabbed my tray, praying that Derek and Miranda were going to follow me. I turned away quickly, surveyed the cafeteria. Finally I spotted Ashley, sitting alone at a table, licking yogurt from a plastic spoon. I felt a pang of sadness for her. She really doesn't have any friends. I stalked away from the BSC, listening to the sound of two more chairs scraping the floor. "Kristy!" Mary Anne called out weakly.

I kept going. But I did hear, very faintly, Miranda calling Stacey a bitch. I smiled, wishing I had said it myself.

When I got to Ashley's table, I sat unannounced. She looked at me, surprised, her eyes widening even more when Derek and Miranda sat down. She didn't ask why we were there, though. Instead she just dipped her spoon into her yogurt again.

I looked over to Miranda. "Thanks for that." I told her with a friendly smile.

"No problem. They were acting like a bunch of stuck up snobs." She replied with a grin.

I looked over to Derek, who was directly next to me, a little _too_ close. But I liked it. "And thank you, too. I'm sorry my friends are acting like that. I don't know what's gotten into them."

Derek smiled gently, keeping those warm brown eyes in mine. He reached up and pushed the strand of curls hiding my burn away from my face. "No problem, Curls. What's up with the battle wound?"

I laughed and told them all what happened (but not what I had been thinking about, of course.). They laughed with me. I couldn't help but think that Stacey and Claudia would have pinned me down to cover it with makeup, and Mary Anne would have fretted that it would get infected and want me to wear a band-aid. But these people, these new friends of mine, just laughed with me. Because it _is _funny.

* * *

In study hall, I did sit with Ashley. And I had fun with her. We worked on our homework but also talked about Derek. She thinks he's very handsome, and she likes his rebellious style. She would.

I also fretted about my next class, which is Earth Science. With Stacey McGill. Ashley made a face when I said that. "Stacey," She said matter-of-factly, "is such a snob. I mean, she's barely ever spoken to me. She's jealous that for a very small amount of time, Claudia preferred my company to hers. I don't know what happened, there. I guess your silly club managed to resume your brainwashing of poor Claudia. I'm glad you're getting out of that bubble, Kristin."

I squirmed, but refrained from snapping at Ashley for her insults against the BSC. I was beginning to wonder myself if we weren't just a bunch of snobs with a title. I was beginning to wonder a lot of things.

So when I made my way to Earth Science at the bell, I talked myself into being nice. I have to handle this with dignity, with decorum. I have a business to run, after all.

Turns out I worried for nothing. When I got to the class Stacey was already there, sitting in the front row, eyes straight forward. On both of her sides were other students. She didn't acknowledge me. So I sauntered to the back and sat, staring at the back of her head. Burning holes into her. Wanting to make her squirm.

It didn't work.

Stacey is tough. I guess growing up in New York made her that way. Arguments and insults bounced off of her like nothing, and gave her such an air of confidence that everyone seemed to adore her. With the exception of my new friends, and maybe Cokie Mason and her crew. Cokie doesn't like anybody, though.

Gym was uneventful. I couldn't wait for team tryouts. I was going to get on every team in this school if I could. Miranda and I opted to jog around the track for most of the class, chatting as we did. She didn't say anything about my friends, for the second day in a row. I think that's awfully nice of her. Considering how they're acting. She could be spending the entire period complaining.

After the bell I stayed behind and showered. I was the only one. The rest of the girls just ran for home. I did that, yesterday. But today I would catch the late bus. Because today, I did not want to chance running into the BSC.

I towel dried my hair and threw my clothes back on. I checked my watch. Five minutes til the late bus. No problem. I burst through the doors, ready to break into a run, when I heard "Hey! Kristy!"

I spun around to see Derek jogging toward me, a smile on his face. "Miranda told me you stayed behind."

I gaped at him. He called me Kristy. It was the first time. I'd been wondering if maybe he'd forgotten.

I loved how it sounded. "Hi, Derek." I said casually, fully aware that we were alone for the first time.

"Come on." He said, grabbing my hand. "I'll drive you home."

I looked down at his hand, holding mine, in a daze. And followed. What else can I do?

Derek led me to a beat up, rusted, ugly thing of a car making an eyesore in the student parking lot. He opened the door for me and I slid in, making a face. The inside was nearly hollow, save for two seats and the steering wheel. Smelled bad, too.

Derek slammed my door and hurried around to the drivers side. As he got in (after struggling with his door for about thirty seconds) something occurred to me. "Did you get held back a year?" I asked.

"Nope," he said with a grin, jamming a screwdriver into the ignition.

"Then how do you have a license?"

"I don't." He said simply, the engine roaring to life.

I fought the urge to jump out. "So you have a permit."

"Nope." He looked over at me and smiled. Those eyes. "Don't worry. I can drive fine. My brother gave me this car. My dad really doesn't care what I do, as long as I don't get in trouble. I'm a good driver, I swear."

I felt around next to me. "What about..."

"No seatbelts." He smiled again. "It's okay, Kristy. I won't let you get hurt."

Those eyes. I let out a breath and nodded. "Okay. Fine. Let's go."

He dropped it into gear and the car lurched forward. I held fast to what once might have been a dashboard. Derek said nothing for a couple minutes. Then-

"You're pretty sexy with that wet hair and terrified look on your face, you know?"

I looked at Derek in horror. Not in horror that he'd said something so blatantly sarcastic, but in horror that I didn't realize how terrible I must look. "Oh, my lord!" I cried, searching for a mirror. "I just took a shower! I must look awful. I– I--"

"Well the black smudges around your eyes look pretty disturbing." He agreed.

Oh, my god. My mascara. I grabbed his rearview mirror to turn toward me. It came off in my hands.

"I just glued that on!" Derek exclaimed in mock anger.

I stared in horror at the mirror in my hands, then slowly turned it over to look at myself. He hadn't been kidding. I had black smudges all around my eyes. I looked like I was ready for Halloween.

Derek began to laugh, and I looked over at him, feeling my hope slip away. He was making fun of me.

But those eyes. They were still so warm, so sweet. "Come on, Curls." He said with a chuckle. "It's funny. Have a laugh."

I smiled slightly, looking at myself again. Then I _did_ burst out laughing. It is pretty funny. I've never worried about how I look in my life, and now I'm paying the price for it.

We laughed for a few moments together, and, as we settled down, Derek reached over and put his hand on my knee. He smiled when I looked over at him in surprise. Deciding to play cool, and to finally flirt back, I put my hand over his.

The ride to my house is a long one, but we spent it in a comfortable silence. I marveled at myself. Usually I can't shut up, but for some reason, with this guy I'm okay with not saying anything.

Strange.

When he pulled up to my house I sighed with relief to see that Nanny's car was nowhere to be seen. She must have taken the kids out. Mom and Watson were both working, thank God for that. If they had seen me come home in some strange car they would have lectured me for hours. I briefly considered asking Derek in but thought better. Don't push it, Kristy.

"Well... thanks for the ride." I said awkwardly, not sure of what to do now.

"So, how about Friday? We'll go to dinner, maybe see a movie..." Derek replied casually, as if he asked me out every day.

"Sure!" I blurted before I could think about it too much.

"Cool. Need a ride to school tomorrow?"

I pictured this car pulling in front of our house while mom watch. "Uh... no, don't go out of your way. I'll take the bus. But I'll see you in Algebra?"

"Maybe sooner." He said with a smile.

I started to get out, then hesitated, not quite sure of what I was going to do. So I grabbed a pen from my book bag and grabbed his hand. I've seen Stacey do this a million times.

Derek watched with a grin as I scrawled my phone number on the palm of his hand. I finished and looked up at him. "Call me, okay?"

"Of course." He replied.

I jumped out of the car and walked up to the house casually. I didn't here the car move. So when I got to the door I turned around and smiled briefly at him. He revved his engine and tore down the street.

I smiled to myself, recalling an old episode of _Sex in the City_ I'd seen. I watch the late-night T.V. reruns sometimes, wondering if that stuff is all true and if Stacey was going to grow up to become Samantha. But there was one episode, Carrie had been walking away from a guy and turned back to look at him, and thought to herself _that would have been so cool if I hadn't looked back._

It probably would have been. But maybe I'm like her. I just couldn't help myself.

I pushed open the front door, grinning. Liking the idea of not knowing what was going to happen. Wondering if it's really possible for a person to change so fast.

Am I really changing?

Or are my eyes just opening?


	3. Chapter 3

Three.

I waited until I couldn't hear the sound of Derek's muffler - Derek's very _loud_ muffler - anymore. I shut the door and leaned against it, sighing. I heard Shannon's claws clicking on the wood floor, coming toward me. I turned around to greet her -

And ran smack into Sam.

"What the-" I said with a gasp. "You scared me!"

Sam grinned. I haven't seen him much the past few days. He gets rides from his friends to school. Mom won't let him get his license yet. And at school he pretty much avoids me, not wanting to be seen with a lowly freshman. He'll get over it. "Was that Derek Higgins?"

Crap. "What do you care?" I asked, moving past him and bending down to pet Shannon. She licked my fingers gently, then sat back happily as I scratched her head, giving me a doggy grin.

"I'm sure Mom would love to know you just got a ride home from some loser without a license." Sam said from behind me. He didn't sound concerned. A little evil, maybe, but not concerned.

"I'm sure Mom would also like to know how many times you had Stacey in the house without anyone here last year." I snapped back, standing up straight again. I faced my brother. He enjoyed another growth spurt this summer. At six-foot-one, he now towers exactly a foot over me. I didn't grow a centimeter this year. But I can take him, if I have to.

Sam made a face at me. "Last year, right. Mom's so wrapped up in missing Charlie she wouldn't give two shits about something that happened last year. But _this,_" He went on, his smile beginning to match the slightly evil tone of his voice, "this is classic. You'll be grounded for months."

"Fine, Sam, be a tattletale. What are we, five years old? We're in high school, for God's sake." I resisted the urge to smile, happy to finally throw the fact that we're _both_ in high school in his face.

"Naw, I'm not going to tell. Not yet, anyway. Just remember that I've got something on you now. Don't mess with me." He gave me a shove, a friendly one.

Blackmail. Of course. I shoved my brother back, and he ran off, laughing, Shannon barking at his heels. Sighing, I headed for the kitchen. I found a note from Nanny on the refrigerator, saying she's taken David Michael and Emily Michelle to the grocery store with her, and that there was chicken salad in the fridge for sandwiches if we were hungry. I marveled at the quiet in the house, save for Sam's Playstation and the sound of a tennis ball bouncing along with Shannon's claws skittering across the wooden floor in the family room every few moments. The house seems quiet a lot lately, with Charlie gone. Karen and Andrew will be here next weekend, that should liven things up. I slapped together a quick sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. Andrew started kindergarten this week. And Karen started third grade. I swallowed and reached for the phone. I should call their house, see how school's going.

As soon as I touched it, it rang. I jumped, startled, but recovered quickly and studied the caller I.D. _Richard Spier._ Mary Anne. Great.

"Hello?" I asked listlessly as I picked up.

"Kristy? Hey, it's . . . it's me. Mary Anne?" She asked, as if I might have forgotten who she was.

"What's up?" I asked, praying this wouldn't take long. I know how it's going to be. _Stacey didn't mean to act that way. We're friends, we're a club. I'm sure she's sorry._ And then she would tell me how I should stay away from Derek.

"I just wanted to see if you were . . . okay, I guess. You seemed pretty mad today."

"Well, I can't help that Stacey's a bitch." I replied bluntly. I heard Mary Anne gasp slightly at the word. Because I don't really talk like that. Not much. Especially not about my club members.

Things change. Maybe it was Miranda's insult to begin with, but it was accurate.

"I... She didn't mean to be so . . . " Mary Anne fumbled with her words, every one of which I already knew.

"Bitchy?" I suggested.

"Kristy, why are you talking like this?" She sounded on the verge of tears. I felt a pang of guilt, but it was smothered by another feeling. An old, familiar feeling. Frustration with my best friend. I opened my mouth to snap at her about being a baby, but thought better.

"Are we . . . I mean, we have a meeting the day after tomorrow, are we still going to have it? What about the club? We can't run a business like this . . . "

"Mary Anne, relax!" I nearly shouted. "Like we haven't fought before? We fight all the time! Like, once a week! The club will be fine. I'll see you in school tomorrow." I quickly hit the button to hang up before she could go on. Technically, it wasn't really hanging up on her. I said I'd see her tomorrow, right?

I remained in the chair, counting silently, chewing some more of my sandwich. A minute at most and she'd call me back.

After sixty seconds the phone still hadn't rang. I kept counting, because it's Mary Anne. She'd be upset, but she'd call me back. Because that's what she does.

At one hundred twenty seven seconds the phone rang. Good old Mary Anne.

"What?" I said irritably, not bothering to look at the I.D.

"Miss me yet?" Asked a male voice. It took me a few moments to realize it was Derek.

I coughed. "Oh! Hi!" I laughed.

* * *

I was on the phone with Derek for nearly an hour. Mostly we talked about music. Or he did, rather. I've never been much of a music nut. I like pop music, mostly, energetic stuff that's good to exercise to. Derek was horrified. He likes a lot of punk, metal, and hip hop. He went on for quite a while about the evils of bands like Good Charlotte, which happened to be the last C.D. I purchased. When I hung up I briefly pondered on the fact that Mary Anne had never called back, but let it go. She'll get over it. She always does.

After I hung up with Derek I holed up in my room, doing homework. I didn't feel much like talking to anybody. Not after the day I had.

Mary Anne never did call back.

* * *

The next morning I awoke to the sounds of the weatherman. No Ramones today. No signs. But it was still extra early. I took care curling my hair, with no severe burns. I did it much faster this time. I guess it gets easier with practice.

The weatherman I woke up with had informed me that today was going to be a hot one, so I put on a blue spaghetti strapped tank-top in favor of a T-shirt. Normally I put something on over a tank-top, but today I decided to let it go. Why not show a little skin? It's only my arms, after all. I threw on jeans (I don't have anything else. I need to go shopping.) And my studded belt again. I frowned at myself in the mirror. My jeans are all so loose on me. At least I look less like a boy with my hair curled.

As I slid on a pair of tennis shoes, I frowned again. Why don't I have any nice shoes? I'm not into, like, high heels and stuff but a cool pair of sandals would be nice. I should talk to Mom. She'd probably jump at the chance to buy me more girlish stuff.

When I'm done getting dressed I still have half an hour until the bus comes. I bought a lot of extra time curling my hair today.

I sauntered into my bathroom casually. What to do?

Slowly I opened the drawer of my vanity. In it is mascara, blush, eyeshadow, eyeliner, and lip gloss. Some of it is stuff I've gotten for holiday parties and family photo's, some of it left over from the BSC's billion attempts at giving me a make over, some of it left behind at sleep overs. I eyeballed the makeup suspiciously. What am I doing?

Slamming the drawer shut, I sighed. Makeup? Me? No. I don't know how to put it on. I'd look like a clown. Maybe I'll ask Mary Anne or Claudia . . .

Or not.

Instead I swiped the mascara I've been using the past few day on quickly, and sighed at my reflection. I still look like the ugly tomboy trying to be pretty. What could Derek possibly see in me?

I decided to leave early, if only to stop myself from putting on makeup. I ran through the kitchen grabbing a package of poptarts again, past Mom, Watson, and Sam. No way was I going to stick around for Sam to drop hints about yesterday. They all shouted goodbye to me as I trotted out the door, apparently unaware that I was walking out twenty minutes early. Derek probably _could _have picked me up. They probably wouldn't have noticed.

"Hey! Kristy!"

I turned toward the sound of my name and found Shannon Kilbourne standing in her driveway with the newspaper in her hand. She was already in her Stoneybrook Day uniform, though she probably wouldn't be leaving for another hour. I jogged toward her, smiling. I'd missed Shannon this summer. I missed her in the club. I missed the club, period.

"What's up, Shan? How's school going?"

Shannon shrugged. "You know how it is. I'm already up to my ears in homework. But I'm enjoying it. New challenges." She looked me up and down. "Did I miss something this summer?"

I looked at myself. The tank top. The hair. "Naw. I'm just . . . trying new things."

"Well you look great, keep it up."

"Yeah?" I ran my fingers through my hair self consciously. "I don't . . . I don't look like I'm trying too hard?"

Shannon smiled gently. "Not at all, Kristy. You look very pretty. If you ever want some help just ask."

I blushed a little. Shannon is my friend, but she's also gorgeous. Someone that looks like her telling me I'm pretty must mean something, right? Or is it just pity?

I frowned to myself and shook off that feeling. "Have you talked to Abby lately?" I asked, wanted to get far away from the subject.

"Not really. Anna and I have been hanging out, so I see Abby around, but she's always quiet. I don't know what's going on with her." Shannon shrugged. "I guess she's just done being friends. Things change."

I wish I could shrug it off so easily. "Yeah, I guess so. I'm barely talking to _any_ of the club members right now. They all seem like they've changed." _Or maybe it's me._

Shannon regarded me thoughtfully for a moment. "Well," she said carefully, "to be honest, Kristy, I never considered the girls in the BSC to be the nicest I've ever known. You've always been cool but some of the others are a little . . . "

I knew where this was going. "Bitchy." I finished.

Shannon looked slightly surprised. "Well, yeah. I mean, always fighting and arguing and getting mad over such petty things. I mean, when Mary Anne cut her hair?"

I looked down. Even _I_ was a jerk when Mary Anne cut her hair. I'm not sure why, exactly. At the time I'd been mad because she'd made such a big change without telling me first. Like I should be the first to know everything. Because I always had to be in control. Because I have to know everything.

Because I'm the bossy know-it-all.

I've been accused of it more times than I can count. I've always felt bad about it, and I've been working on it. I've never considered before that all of my friends were sort of the same way. Yet they were telling me who I shouldn't date.

"I guess you're right." I said slowly.

Shannon looked uneasy. "I don't want to start any problems . . . "

"No, no. You're not starting anything, Shan. I'm just having an epiphany. Or rather, I've been having one for a couple days now. "

"Is the club still together?" She asked.

"Yeah, it is. Not so great, but together. We don't get much business anymore, since we had to start turning down so many jobs. And high school seems to be a bit more work than we expected. Well, than I expected. I don't know when I'm going to have time to baby-sit anymore, between homework and . . . and . . . " I almost said _And Derek,_ but how could I be sure he would be taking up all of my time? I only have one date with him. Plus I didn't have time to explain him to Shannon. I had to get to the bus stop.

"You'd better go." Shannon said, nodding her head toward the other side of the street. Abby and Anna were walking toward the bus stop. Anna waved. Abby looked straight ahead. I looked at my watch.

"Yeah, the bus is coming. But, hey, call me or come over, okay? I don't want to lose _all_ of my friends." I said, backing away.

"Of course, Kristy. I'll talk to you soon."

I jogged down the street slowly, not wanting to catch up with Abby and Anna. I wondered if Shannon and I would remain friends. I hoped so. It looked as if she might be the only BSCer (or former BSCer) who approved of how I looked. Of course, if she knew about Derek she might think differently. Shannon may be sweet but she's also very upscale.

Sort of what Stacey tries to make everybody think she is.

When I got to school I saw Mary Anne, Stacey, and Claudia all hanging out by the steps, where I had hoped to find them yesterday. Today I merely walked past them. Mary Anne turned away in a huff, Stacey didn't acknowledge me. But Claudia watched me. I glanced sideways at her. She looked a little sad.

I wondered what would happen to us.

I wondered a lot of things.

The day went pretty similar to yesterday, with some small changes. Like, in homeroom Ashley had her purse and books draped across two desks, saved for me and Miranda. Derek was actually in Algebra today, and I sat next to him in the back row, with Miranda on my other side. Derek kept putting his headphones on my head and playing samples of music for me. The teacher either didn't notice or didn't care. At lunch Derek got my food again, and Miranda, Ashley and I sat at our table and giggled while we waited for him. Once in a while I looked over toward the BSC table. Erica Blumburg was sitting with them, along with Trevor Sandbourne. I never caught any of them looking over at me. They all looked perfectly happy.

In study hall Ashley and I sat with each other again. I was beginning to like her more and more, even though she still insisted on calling me Kristin. This time we didn't discuss the BSC at all, just made plans to go to the movies on Saturday night. Ashley, Miranda, and I. My new friends. I told them I wanted to invite Shannon, and they'd been fine with it. They've never met her. I didn't mention that Shannon used to be a member of the BSC. I figured that would be points against her.

In Earth Science I sat in back and Stacey sat in front. We didn't acknowledge each other.

After school Derek met me at my locker. We went straight to his car. I wasn't scared this time. But I did have him drop me off a few houses down from my own. He understood.

After dinner with my family, I cleared the table. Mom and Watson were lingering with glasses of wine. I cleared my throat.

"Um." I said.

They both looked at me. "What's up?" Watson asked.

I set down the plates I was carrying and sat across from Mom. "I, uh, have to tell you something."

Mom raised her eyebrows.

"I, uh . . . " I closed my eyes. Why was this so hard? Maybe because it was the first time I've really done it. "I have a date tomorrow night."

Mom grinned. Watson frowned. "Oh, Kristy! You met a boy!" Mom exclaimed. "I knew it! The hair, the way you're dressing! I knew it!"

"Do we know this boy?" Watson asked.

"No." I told them a little about Derek, what little I knew. Nothing about the car. When I finished, I added quickly, "He's a sophomore."

Watson frowned again. I smiled. I like how he's such a Dad with me sometimes.

Mom grinned again. "An _older_ boy. Well, Kristy. How exciting! What are you two going to do tomorrow?"

I relaxed. I had her permission, at least. "I'm not quite sure what we're doing. So it . . . it's okay?"

"Sure, it's okay. I'd like to meet him, though. Maybe you can have him come for dinner on Sunday?"

"Maybe." I mumbled. "I also wanted to know what my curfew would be? I know my babysitting curfew, but . . . " This is different. My baby-sitting curfew is still ten o'clock.

Mom and Watson looked at each other, having a conversation with their eyes, the way only parents can.

"Well," Mom said slowly. "I suppose, as long as we know where you are, that you can stay out until eleven. And you must call if you are going to be even thirty seconds late."

I nodded, smiling.

"Maybe we should get her a cell phone." Watson said to Mom. I took that as my cue and picked up the plates again. I wanted to cheer at the idea of a cell phone. Not even Stacey has one yet. Way to go, Watson.

I took the plates in the kitchen and listened carefully. They were discussing cell phones for both me _and_ Sam. Well, I guess that would make sense. Sam would throw a fit if I got one and he didn't. I liked the fact that they now considered me old enough for such luxuries. Sure, it was more for them, so they would know where I was when I was out with boys . . .

Wow.

I loaded the dishwasher in awe. How things have changed in only a few days. I'm in high school, I'm dating, I can stay out until eleven, and now I'm getting my own cell phone. Maybe. I have curly hair and new friends.

I switched on the dishwasher and grabbed the phone to call Shannon (the person) and invite her out on Saturday. If I was going to start a new life, I might as well go all-out.

When she picked up the phone after her sister Tiffany called her to it, she sounded surprised to hear it was me. Pleasantly surprised.

"Saturday?" She repeated when I asked her. "Well, yeah. Sure. This is really nice of you, Kristy. Greer moved to Massachusetts this summer. She was, like, my best friend. I mean, I have other friends, but . . . "

I understood. "It'll be fun, I promise. Ashley and Miranda are great. They're not at all like . . . well, like . . . "

"Them. I get it." Shannon laughed. "I have to go, I still have some more homework, but get a pen so I can give you my cell number. You can call me Saturday morning . . . "

I wrote down Shannon's cell phone number in a daze. Wondering what happened to my life. When I hung up Watson called me back into the dining room to tell me that he would be leaving work early tomorrow to pick up Sam and I from school. He'd be taking us to get cell phones. He wanted us to pick out our own.

I charged upstairs and pounded on Sam's door, telling him to go talk to Watson. Running, I made it to my room before Sam could ask me why.

I went to bed excited. Tomorrow was a big day. So was Saturday. Maybe I'd ask Mom for some money for clothes and the girls and I could go shopping Saturday. I fell asleep picturing cell phones and wondering which one I would get.

When I woke up in the morning, the song playing was "Can't Get You Out Of My Head" by Kylie Minogue. I jumped up dancing, smiling. Derek would scream if he heard me listening to this. I curled my hair, still dancing, and applied a little lip gloss with my mascara. I packed my CD player in my backpack. If Derek could get away with it, so could I.

I listened to my Good Charlotte CD at the bus stop, bobbing my head and ignoring Abby. As I boarded the bus, I made a decision. Quite possibly the easiest one I've made this week. And the most obvious. I simply don't have time for it.

I would not be attending tonight's Baby-Sitters Club meeting.


	4. Chapter 4

Four.

"Here comes your brother."

I turned around and saw Sam striding toward us. I sighed. "Okay. I guess I'll see you at seven, then?"

"I'll be there with bells on." Derek replied with a wink.

"Or a muffler. I'll call you if they're still home."

"Cool." Derek let go of my hand and strode away "Hey, Sam." He said casually as he passed my brother.

Sam grunted. I rolled my eyes. Derek was picking me up at seven. Mom and Watson were supposed to be going out tonight, so it should be safe.

"Where the hell is Watson? I thought he said he was taking off early." Sam muttered, tossing his backpack to the ground.

"He'll be here, Sam. Jeez, go easy on the guy. He's getting us cell phones."

"Mmm." Sam replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "You looked pretty lovey dovey with Higgins just now. That guy's a loser, Kristy."

I gritted my teeth. I'm getting very sick of hearing that. "Mind your own business. He's a perfectly nice guy."

"Yeah, well if I hear anything I don't like he's gonna be a perfectly crippled guy."

I sighed, rolling my eyes again. Sam can be a real jerk sometimes. I looked around and, thankfully, spotted Watson's Land Rover coming toward us. "C'mon." I muttered, walking toward the curb.

Getting a cell phone isn't very exciting. In fact, it's boring and it takes forever. So boring, in fact, that I refuse to go into detail. I ended up with a small white flip phone, and it had "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" as a choice of ringer. I loved it immediately, and played with it, programming in numbers, as the guy selling us the phones explained how our plan worked. Something about shared minutes. I didn't pay attention.

At nearly five, Watson groaned as he pulled into the driveway. "Kristy, why didn't you remind me? I could have dropped you off on the way."

"Huh?"

"Your meeting?" Watson asked, looking confused. "Is it the wrong day?"

"Oh. No." Since Charlie left, it's become quite the burden to get me to Claudia's house for meetings, even only two days a week. "I'm not going today."

Watson looked pretty surprised. I _have_ had the club almost as long as he's known me. He didn't push the subject, though. I was glad. If he or Mom asked I had planned on telling them that everyone was busy and Claudia would be taking the calls herself. I don't want them to know I'm fighting with the girls. They might get suspicious of Derek.

Poor Derek. Why is his reputation so bad? I have yet to see him do anything that a "loser" would do. Sure, he skipped classes, but isn't that pretty much normal in high school? And the driving. His Dad was okay with it, and Derek really was a good driver.

I contemplated this as I refreshed my curls. Part of me wanted to ask Sam what it is about Derek. Another part, a bigger part, wasn't sure I wanted to know. Relying on rumors is dumb, anyway. If Derek turns out to be a jerk I won't date him. Period.

I wondered if I would forgive Stacey, too. No. I won't go crawling back to her. Even if she's right, I will not give that girl the satisfaction. What little friendship I may have had with Stacey was over.

I shut off the curling iron and set it down, grabbing hair spray and walking out of the bathroom. I looked at the clock as I sprayed my hair.

Five twenty-seven.

I touched the bulge in my jeans pocket made by the cell phone, wondering if I should call them. Claudia's number had been the first I had added into my contacts. They were going to wonder, and maybe worry, about where I was. If they worried, they might call here asking about me. And God only knows what Mary Anne might tell my mother.

Decision made. I pulled out the phone and brought up Claud's number, sighing. Short and sweet.

"Hello, Baby-Sitters Club." It was Claudia's voice. I relaxed a bit. I haven't had a problem with Claudia.

"Hey Claud, it's me."

There was a pause. "Oh! Hey. Are you . . . are you coming today?"

Before school ended, I relaxed club rules drastically. One of the things I'd relaxed was attendance. If someone skipped a meeting, it was not the end of the world. I had never actually done it myself, not since I'd made those rules. But I am allowed to.

"No, sorry. I would have called earlier, but I lost track of time." I grimaced at myself. I've been telling a lot of lies this week. It's getting too easy. "I have a lot of homework, so I'm not going to make it. You guys can call me if you need me to take any jobs."

"So you'll be home?" Claudia said, sounding a little suspicious.

"We-ell . . . " Now I smiled to myself. "Let me give you my new cell phone number, just in case."

"Your new _cell phone_?" Claud practically gasped. I heard her take a deep breath, trying to regain her cool. Claudia, always cool. "Okay, what's the number?"

I remained smiling as I recited the number to her. I had memorized it right away. I could just picture Mary Anne and Stacey twitching in jealousy. I have a cell phone. None of them do. After I gave her the number, I hung up quickly, not wanting to answer any more questions.

"We'll see you later, kids, be good for Nanny! Kristy, have fun!" My mother shouted from downstairs. She and Watson were going to some dinner party at their friends. Good.

As I sifted through my clothes, I wondered how I would get past Nanny. She would certainly tell Mom if a boy picked me up in a car.

Turns out I didn't have to worry, because when seven o'clock rolled around, Nanny, the kids, and Sam were still loudly eating dinner. I slipped out of the house unnoticed.

Once outside, I stood on the porch and smoothed my shirt. I'd dug up a pair of black slacks that didn't fall off of me without a belt, and had put on a light pink button-up shirt Mary Anne had given me for my birthday. Pink. She said she figured it was worth a shot. Tonight was the first time I've worn it. I smiled to myself, thinking that she'd be happy I finally put it on.

Not too happy about why, though.

I checked my watch and grunted. Five after seven. Late. Or was he coming at all? _I hope he's not playing a prank on you . . . _Mary Anne had said on Wednesday. Could she have been right? What if this was all some sort of elaborate prank?

I strained my ears, listening for the noise pollution that is Derek's car. Nothing.

Biting my lip, not thinking, I dug my phone from my pocket and dialed Mary Anne. She answered after two rings.

"Hey," I greeted her. Guilt flowed through me.

"Kristy?" She asked, sounding hopeful.

"Yeah."

"What . . . what's up?" Now she sounded flustered.

"Sorry I hung up on you." I blurted. "I was just . . . I don't know. Stupid, I guess."

"It's okay." She said softly. Because she forgives. Because she's my best friend. "Are you okay?"

"I--"

I cut off, holding the phone away from my ear. Hearing the sound of Derek's car turning the corner. Stupid, paranoid, silly Kristy.

"Kristy?" Mary Anne's voice called tinnily from the earpiece.

"Yeah. I'm fine. I've got to go. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay . . . " I heard her say just before I snapped the phone shut. Derek pulled in front of the house, and I met him at the curb. He got out and ran around, opening the door for me. I smiled at him, sorry that I'd thought he would ever be mean to me.

Once he was in the car I turned toward him. "So. What are we doing?"

"Oh, I got us a room at a motel. Cheap, but the sheets are clean."

I felt my mouth drop open. My face heated up. "Wh . . . what?"

In the dusky light, I had to strain to see Derek's face. The little light left gleamed off of his teeth, exposed in a wide grin. I let out a huge gasp of air. Lighten up, Kristy.

"Had you going, didn't I?" He said with a chuckle.

"Right, yeah. I didn't believe you for a second." I lied, tensing up. Maybe he'd meant the joke to relax me, but it frustrated me that I'd fallen for it. Stupid, gullible Kristy Thomas. She'll believe anything. Like I would even know what to do in a motel room with a boy. I know what sex is, of course. I've seen a few movies on cable, I've taken the classes. But I'm just a kid. It's right that it would scare me, right?

As we rode in silence, Derek's hand slipping to my knee, destination still unknown to me, I wondered about his experience for the first time. I wondered how many girlfriends he's had, how many girls he's kissed, and I wonder if he's gone all the way. If he has, will he expect that from me? Or other things? I've barely kissed boys.

Relax, Thomas. You're five minutes into the first date. Keep your eye on the ball.

My cell phone blared to life from my pocket, and I fished it out, embarrassed by my ringer now. Take me Out to the Ballgame? What a baby. I opened it quickly. "Hello?"

"How is your date going?"

"Ashley!" I yelped, turning red. I was glad it was dark. "It's uh . . . early!"

"Yeah, Miranda just wanted to call your cool new cell phone. We're on three-way."

"Hi, Kristy! Get any action yet?" Miranda chimed in.

I coughed loudly, hoping Derek couldn't hear any of this. He appeared to be keeping his eyes on the road. "Guys, I'll call you later, okay?"

"I spoke to my father as soon as I heard you got a cell phone. He said I can get one, too." Ashley replied as if I'd said nothing.

"_WHAT!"_ Miranda screeched. "Oh that's it. I'm talking to my mom. This is outrageous, me being the last person on the planet--"

"Okay, guys, seriously, I've got to go." I said quickly, snapping the phone shut. I looked sheepishly at Derek. He glanced at me quickly and smiled, squeezing my knee ever so slightly. My shoulders dipped slightly.

Relax, Thomas.

For the first time I noticed where we were. It was familiar. And it wasn't toward downtown. "Where are we going, seriously?"

"The school."

I raised my eyebrows. There was nothing going on at the school tonight, not that I knew of. Unless of course he was bringing me to completely humiliate me in front of all of his friends and mine. _I hope he's not playing a prank on you . . . _

Relax, Thomas.

When Derek pulled into the school parking lot, muffler rattling, I breathed a small sigh of relief. The buildings were all dark. The fences were padlocked. So what was he up to?

I got out of the car and looked up at the fence, which Derek had parked right next to. He came round the car and grinned at me. "Let's go in."

I looked beyond the fence at the lush green baseball diamond, still bright in the almost completely faded twilight. I hadn't touched this field. SHS baseball is very big, and the school keeps the diamond under lock and key. Some towns have football, basketball, hockey, lacrosse. Stoneybrook has baseball. I can only hope I get to play on this field with the girls' team some day.

Meanwhile, Derek was standing on the roof of his car, holding the fence and looking down at me. "Come on, Curls. I know you love baseball."

I bit my lip, looking out at the field. "I do, but isn't this . . . illegal?"

"This is our school. Yeah, it's closed, but it's still ours. Don't be scared."

I put my hand on my hip. "I am _not_ scared. I would just prefer not to commit any crimes at my school."

My face felt hot even as I said it. When Derek replied "You telling me you never even wrote on the bathroom wall?" I nearly ran away. I thought of the time I _did_ commit a crime at my school, of what happened. That was for baseball, too. I sighed, and accepted Derek's hand to climb on the hood, then the roof. This was hopping a fence. That was defacing public property. That was much worse.

So I climbed the fence with Derek. When I dropped to the other side, I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. The smell of the grass had a calming effect. I'm not here to ruin anything. I'm just here to look.

"Think fast, Curly!" I heard, and looked up to see a ball whizzing toward my face. I put my hand out and caught it without thinking, my hand stinging with pleasure. I love that feeling. I could barely see his face from where he'd run to, abut twenty feet from first base. But I could see his mouth hanging open. "Wow. You _are_ good." He began backing up. "Bet you can't tag me out before I get home."

I took off like a shot, and Derek did as well, stomping on first base and taking off for second. I caught up to him halfway between third and home, and wondered, as I slammed the ball into his side, if he let me catch him. Derek tripped when I hit him and grabbed my arm. We both went down, laughing, getting covered in dirt.

"You let me catch you, huh?" I asked, still giggling.

"No way." Derek replied, gasping for breath. "I'm out of shape. And you're _good._ I haven't played ball since SMS."

I reached over the dirt to the grass and stroked it. "Did you get hazed at SMS?"

Derek made a face. "Yeah. Nothing too bad. Had to toilet paper the Vice Principals house."

I took a deep breath. "Mine was worse." I said, and went on to tell him what happened. The graffiti, the fire, the guilt I'd felt, the relief later. How it still bugged me that I'd gotten away with it clean. Derek listened with interest, adding a comment here and their about how teams are jerks and he'd heard worse about SHS.

"Maybe I won't go out for SHS, then..." I trailed off sadly. I don't want to go through that again.

Derek sighed again, then stood up, pulling me with him. "Come here." He said, heading toward the dugout.

"What are you up to, now?"

Derek looked back at me and grinned. "Ever seen _Fast Times at Ridgemont High_?"

"No . . . "

He stopped, looking dumbfounded. "Really? Wow, I have so much to teach you, and show you. Well, I guess it's good you haven't seen it, being that I totally stole this whole deal from the movie. Plus this will be a surprise, too." He grinned, and tugged me toward the dugout again. I followed warily, wishing I'd seen the movie.

As we descended into the hole, Derek turned around and threw the ball in his hands. I watched closely. The way his body rotated, the way he held the ball. He was a pitcher. I watched the ball, a small glint of white against the now purple sky. I watched for what felt like a long time. When it finally landed it nearly hit the outfield fence. I turned toward him, ready to admit I was impressed.

Instead my lips were met by his.

I tensed at first, because it's been a while since I've kissed a boy. Bart. That seemed like so long ago.

Relax, Thomas. Stop thinking.

So I relaxed, and I let myself get lost in the kiss. And when his lips gently prodded mine to open, I didn't freak out. When I felt his tongue touch mine, I didn't run. Because it felt nice. My heart was racing, a million miles a minute, and I felt myself put my hand around his neck and pull him closer. I was personally shocked at myself. Two minutes into my first real kiss and I'm getting aggressive.

Well, I guess that isn't all _that_ surprising.

After what felt like hours, but in reality was probably only five minutes, Derek pulled away from me, a slow smile spreading over his face. I waited for myself to blush, burn hot at what we had just done, but I didn't. I wasn't ashamed, or embarrassed. It felt right to me. This is a first.

Kristy Thomas, the baby of the BSC. She can't handle boys. Gross, right?

Wrong.

I surprised myself, as Derek took my hand and guided me back to the fence. I expected myself to blurt something stupid, be my usual self. Instead I followed him silently, dreamily. I wondered if I was falling in love. I couldn't see myself, but I was willing to be the look on my face was something similar to the one on Mary Anne's when she was with Logan, or Stacey's when she was with Robert Brewster.

Not even the idea of Stacey could get me down.

When we were over the fence and Derek had helped me off of his car, he opened the door for me again. Just as I bent to get in, he said "Wait . . . " and when I turned to see why he kissed me again, this time much shorter, but just as sweet.

* * *

We ended up at the movies after that, some stupid comedy with a lot of cussing that I didn't find that interesting. Derek made me laugh more than the movie, leaning over and mocking the actors, repeating jokes dramatically. He never once tried to get me to kiss him in the theater, and I was glad. I may like kissing him, but I don't know if I'm ready for PDA.

When we exited the theater, it was just before ten. Derek planted a small peck on my cheek. "You hungry?"

"I'm _starving._" I replied, looking at my watch. Over an hour. Plenty of time for a quick bite.

Derek slung his arm around my shoulder and steered me in the direction of the Rosebud Café, which was just down the street from the movies. I could see through the windows that it was still brimming with high schoolers. It _is _Friday night, after all.

As we walked in, I smiled. I loved the Rosebud. It reminded me of better days with the BSC. My mouth watered at the smell of french fries and burgers. I already knew what I was getting.

"Derek! Over here!" I heard a male voice call. I looked toward it and saw three guys and one girl I didn't recognize in a booth. Derek immediately headed their way, his arm still around my shoulder.

"Guys, this is Kristy." Derek half-shouted over the jukebox and humming crowd.

"Kristy! Hi! Sit down!" the girl said, scooting over. I sat, and Derek sat across from me. We smiled at each other. The girl held out her hand to shake. "I'm Crystal. This is my boyfriend Rob," She said, gesturing to the guy next to her.

"Joseph." Said the one next to Derek.

"Kyle." Said the one next to him.

I smiled and shook hands and said hi to everyone Derek flagged down a waitress. I ordered a double cheeseburger with the works and extra fries. I glanced at my watch again. Plenty of time.

Crystal listened in awe as I ordered. "How do you do it?" She asked incredulously.

I shrugged, slightly embarrassed. "I'm really athletic."

"Wow . . . " Crystal looked down at her strawberry milkshake, then down at herself. She wasn't fat, but she wasn't exactly as little as I am, either. She shook her head. "So are you a sophomore like Derek?"

Like Derek? How old _are_ these kids? "No, I'm a freshman."

"Oh." She laughed. "Wow, Derek, you're reelin' em in young these days. We're all Juniors." She explained, turning back to me. "We adopted Derek last year and made him one of our own. He pulls it off, especially with the car."

So not only is he older, he's an honorary upperclassman? Man, I wish Stacey could hear this.

Our food arrived quickly, and I ate carefully, not wanting to look like a pig in front of these juniors. If Stacey or Claudia saw me hanging out with juniors they would die. When Sam finds out, he might not treat me like such an alien.

I ate so carefully, and got so lost in conversation, that when my phone rang, I was quite shocked.

I pulled it from my pocket and looked at my watch.

11:05.

Oh, my Lord!

I put the phone up to my ear immediately. "I'm sorry, I--"

"Nannie went to bed at ten." My brother said in a bored voice. "And they're not home yet. Tell Higgins to get you home by eleven thirty or I'll pummel his face." And he hung up.

I shut my phone slowly, trying to keep my cool in front of the upperclassmen. "Derek . . . " I said slowly.

He raised his eyebrows.

"I'm late."

"Oh!" Derek turned to the neon clock over the café's entrance. "Oh, wow. Okay. Well, let's go." He dug out his wallet and threw twenty dollars on the table. "Sorry guys, I've got to get my lady home." He apologized.

"Oh, to be a freshman again . . . " I heard Crystal giggle as we walked away.

I groaned. "They think I'm a little kid!" I exclaimed.

"Don't worry about it. They liked you. They understand, everyone had the same rules when they were your age." Derek replied, slinging his arm around my shoulder once again and squeezing me.

My age. Ugh.

We got to his car and he opened the door for me. This time I stopped him. I'll show him my age.

I kissed him hard, wrapping my arms around his waist and pulling him closer. His tongue found mine and this time it was different. It wasn't sweet and innocent like the other two times. This time it was more insistent, and it felt a little, well, _bad._

I liked it.

He pulled back suddenly, and we both gasped for breath. He looked hard into my eyes. "Yeah. Get in."

"What?"

He shook his head. "It okay, don't trip. Just get in. You're late enough."

I obeyed, and watched him after he closed the door. I couldn't see his face, but I watched him hesitate, take a deep breath, and do a little hop before he walked around. I watched him curiously. Had I done something wrong?

"Is everything okay?" I asked as he got in.

Derek looked at me, smiling. "Yeah. Great, actually. It's just time for you to go, is all."

I sat back, wondering. It still didn't feel right. What had I done? Was that a bad kiss? It sure didn't seem like one. Or maybe I had done something to him to freak him out.

Did something to him.

I slapped myself in the forehead mentally, glad once again that he couldn't see me blush. I understood. Or, I least, I thought I did. I had put my arms around his waist, pulled him really close to me. Of course. Duh. God, what a baby. Grow up, Kristy. You got him turned on.

We rode in silence, like we tend to do. I just feel so comfortable with him. Derek was smiling, and I was a little, too. It was kind of cool that I had that effect on him. It was romantic, in a scary sort of way.

When he pulled in front of my house I leaned over and kissed his cheek. No more of that other stuff tonight. "Sorry . . . " I whispered in his ear.

He kissed my lips gently. "Don't be sorry. It's really, seriously okay." He said with a grin. "I'm going to call you when I get home."

"Okay." I murmured, kissing him one last time. Then I jumped out and bolted for the house. I looked at my watch.

11:26.

Well, at least Mom and Watson aren't home yet.


	5. Chapter 5

**a/n** - _kinda short, for this story anyway. thank you to EVERYONE who has been reviewing. i would reply to each of you individually but i'm am such an "i'll do it tomorrow" kind of person, you've all been procrastinated away. but know this! you are appreciated, and loved. mwah. oh, and the song lyrics are from three days grace's 'just like you.' _

* * *

"Stop blinking!" Shannon exclaimed, yanking on my arm. 

The eyeliner pencil left a black streak across my cheek as my hand pulled away. "Hey! That wasn't the plan!" I giggled, grabbing a tissue from the box on my counter.

Shannon laughed, too. "Sorry. But if you blink like that you're going to poke yourself in the eye."

"Yeah, yeah." I mumbled, wiping the black from my cheek. "I'm just no good at this."

"Practice!" Shannon replied cheerily.

We had a few minutes before Watson was going to take us downtown to meet Ashley and Miranda, so I'd asked Shannon for an eyeliner lesson. So far . . . not so good.

I sighed and held the pencil to my eye again. _Don't blink._

I shut my eye and forced myself to relax. Slowly I drew a line on my eyelid. I opened it. "Okay. How is that?"

"It's . . . good." Shannon was obviously lying. "But the point of liner is to make your eyelashes look thicker. You need to get it . . . lower."

I peered at myself in the mirror. Sure enough, with my eye open, I couldn't see the line. At all. "Lower." I muttered, closing it again.

"Just fill in under the line." She suggested.

I did so, slowly, painstakingly, forcing my eye to stay still. "This is hard."

"No, it isn't. It's actually really easy. Wait til I show you how to do eyeshadow." She said with a grin.

"We don't have time . . . " I muttered, opening my eye again. There. I could see it.

"Good job!" Shannon exclaimed. "Now the other eye."

"Ugh." I mumbled, closing the other eye.

"We don't have time today . . . but didn't you say Derek is coming to dinner tomorrow?"

"Yeah." I mumbled, concentrating.

"So I'll come over like an hour ahead of time and give you an eyeshadow lesson. It'll be fun. Then I can meet him."

I stopped what I was doing and glanced at Shannon in the mirror, in her designer pants and silk shirt. "Uh . . . he's not exactly . . . upper class?"

She giggled. "So? After what you told me about your date, he sounds great. A real romantic. I like that." She smiled at me in the mirror. I love Shannon, but sometimes when I look at her I still think of her making fun of poor old Louie. My scruffy old Collie next to her purebred Bernese Mountain Dog.

Of course, Shannon gave us Shannon.

I sighed and went back to my other eye, trying not to picture Shannon the person wrinkling her nose disdainfully at Derek and asking "What is _that_?"

"There." I said, blinking several times and surveying myself in the mirror. Not bad. I grabbed the tube of mascara and swiped on a few coats. I looked again. My eyes looked very wide, and they stood out. I liked it.

"Very nice." Shannon said with an approving nod.

I glanced at my watch. "Okay. Let's go. We're supposed to meet them at three."

Shannon grabbed her purse and followed me downstairs. "Watson! We're ready!"

"Kristy!" I heard Mom call. "Come here!"

I followed her voice and found her in the livingroom, digging in her purse. She looked up when I walked in. "Wow! You look very nice. Did Shannon do that for you?"

"She did it herself. I was just the instructor." Shannon said, coming up behind me.

"Great job. Kristy, I thought about what you asked me this morning." Mom said. I gulped. I had asked, nonchalantly, if I could have a little money to buy clothes today. She'd said she would think about it. I watched as she fished a credit card from her purse. "Go ahead and take this. I trust you to be reasonable."

I took the card, my mouth hanging open. "Are you sure?"

"Of course not, but I'll let you take it anyway. Get some stuff. Clothes, makeup, whatever. Just . . . be reasonable." She said again.

"So how much can I spend?"

"Just be reasonable." She said a third time.

Whoa. I glanced at Shannon, thinking she would be awed. She didn't bat an eye. Probably her mother lets her do this all the time.

"Thanks, Mom." I said, hugging her quickly. I heard the jingle of keys and turned to see Watson, smiling. I wonder if this was his idea?

"Ready?" He asked.

"Yeah." I followed him out the door, Shannon at my side.

"New wardrobe, much?" She giggled.

I laughed, too, mentally making a list of what I would get. My own curling iron, for starters.

* * *

"Omigod! Kristy!" Miranda exclaimed, holding up a pair of leather pants.

"I don't think so." I scoffed, rolling my eyes. Miranda giggled and put them back on the rack. Ashley was examining long flowered shirts. Shannon stood next to me, holding out a short black skirt. I sighed.

"Guys? No skirts." I said loudly.

Shannon sighed. "It was worth a shot."

"I just want . . . casual. But nicer than . . . " I gestured to my outfit, baggy jeans and an old Krushers T-shirt. "this." I finished.

"_Anything_ would be nicer than that, Kristin." Ashley replied.

"In other words, jeans." Miranda added.

"Well, yeah. But . . . nicer. And tighter."

Shannon nodded. "Okay. We can do that. What about shirts?"

"No flowers." I said, eyeing Ashley.

Ashley laughed. "Fine, fine . . . "

I swung the bags already in my hand happily. Shannon was getting along with Miranda and Ashley famously. We'd already hit the drugstore, where I put my foot down when Miranda led us to the hair dye aisle. She'd whined a bit and then grabbed a box of bright red hair color for herself. Ashley said I should try dying my hair black. I explained that my hair color would not matter if I was dead, because my mother would kill me.

So that brought us to Bellairs. We'd already hit the department where they'd chosen makeup and a curling iron for me, always reaching quick agreements. I'd pretty much stood back and let them do what they had to do. In addition to makeup and the curling iron, Shannon had talked me into a straightening iron (that went something like "But my hair _is_ straight!" and "Just trust me on this."), some barrettes and other hair accessories, plenty of hair products, and perfume.

It was nearly five, and I was starting to get weary. The stores here in town are nice, but they're . . . well, nice. Not exactly _me_, you know? There are stores at Washington Mall that I know have clothes I like. In fact, I've eyeballed them a few times while on trips with various BSC members, but never really had the courage to buy them. Why? Because I'm Kristy, and I'm a member of the BSC, and we just act a certain way and that's it.

I shook my head to myself. I would have to go to the mall soon. Until then . . .

"Oh! Look at these!" Ashley held up a pair of black slacks with thin red pinstripes. "These are totally you, Kristin."

Shannon eyed the pants and rooted around the rack she was sifting through. "Ah!" She exclaimed, coming up with a shirt. It was sleeveless, red matching the pinstripes, made from some sort of sweatshirt material. I nodded approvingly as I heard a squeal from near the shoes. I turned to see Miranda headed toward us with a pair of low-key black sandals.

"You guys are getting the hang of it." I said, taking the three items from my three friends.

While we got plenty at the store, (five pairs of pants, six shirts, two pairs of shoes and a purse that Miranda insisted I buy.) I left knowing it wasn't enough. I'd tried on everything I bought and had _loved_ it. It was still tame, not too girly, still me, but also cool and cute. I wanted _all_ of my clothes to look like that.

It was around seven when we finally left the clothing store, loaded with bags. The girls were arguing good naturedly over pizza or Chinese, but I led them toward True Music, which is the only CD store in town. "I want to get this CD Derek told me about." I explained over my shoulder as I led the way.

A chorus of "Awww!"'s was the response.

I shook my head, smiling as I entered the store. I headed straight for the rock music section. It didn't take me long to find what I was looking for.

"Three Days Grace?" Miranda asked from over my shoulder. "They have that 'I Hate Everything About You' song, right?"

"Yeah." I said, heading to the counter. "This is Derek's favorite band. Well, his current favorite, he says." I slid the CD across the counter and looked back at my friends. "I figured I'd give it a shot, so I can get to know him better, you know?"

"Awww!" Again.

Turning back to the clerk, my face heated up. I slid the credit card across the counter, wincing. I'd been trying to ignore it, but I must have been secretly adding it up in my head somewhere. Almost four hundred dollars I'd spent. Yikes.

I have some money saved. Maybe I'll pay Mom back half. This was too much.

As we exited True Music I glanced down at Shannon's shoes, which were nice and looked like they probably cost as much as I'd spent on everything. Shannon didn't notice, she was excitedly suggesting we go to the new Mexican food restaurant in town instead of pizza or Chinese. Ashley and Miranda liked that idea. I nodded as well, and we all lugged our bags (mostly my bags) toward Ruperto's. Maybe I should face the fact that I'm kind of rich. Not feel so guilty. After all, Watson has _millions_ of dollars, and Mom still works. A little shopping spree won't hurt anyone.

We all walked into Ruperto's giggling loudly and swinging shopping bags. There were quite a few people inside, but we managed to find a large booth to pile ourselves and our loot in. Miranda started throwing sugar packets at everyone as soon as we sat down. Shannon ordered a glass of water and shrieked when Miranda landed a packet in it. Then Miranda attempted to order a margarita, which the waiter thought was hilarious.

"Worth a shot." Miranda had shrugged.

It took us about twenty minutes to settle down and get a good look at the menu. I couldn't help but smile to myself. Friends. Good friends. That's what these girls were. Already.

Sometime later, as I was snatching a taquito from Ashley's plate, I saw movement in the corner of my eye. Not unusual, being that the restaurant was still pretty full. But for some reason my attention was caught. I turned to look as I bit into the crunchy shell.

And nearly choked.

I looked away quickly, and caught Shannon's eye. She spotted her, too.

Mary Anne had just walked in.

With Logan Bruno.

Mary Anne is my friend, my best friend in the world. I love her dearly. But I wanted to kick her in the shin for being there with Logan. Not even a week into school and they had already gotten back together?

I swallowed my food and tried my best to be invisible. Not just because I might say something about Logan that would piss her off, and I would, but because I realized that I didn't want her to see me here with these "other" friends. The way I'd acted toward Dawn for so long, the jealousy I'd developed over their strong friendship (and then the fact that they became stepsisters) would make me a complete hypocrite in her eyes. I could have friends but she couldn't?

And of course, I haven't really treated her all that great these past few days.

I took a look around the table. We were winding down. I'd invited the girls to all come stay at my house for the night, and they'd enthusiastically agreed, especially when Shannon told them her plan to make me over for dinner tomorrow. I pulled my phone from my pocket and called Watson, who said he'd pick us up in twenty minutes.

So we paid our bill and stood, gathering bags. The restaurant was emptying. There were only a few tables occupied. Mary Anne and Logan appeared distracted.

Just as we reached the door, my cell phone blared to life. Take me out to the ball game. I really need to change that. Before I could comprehend what was happening, Miranda had snatched the phone, which was still in my hand, and glanced at the readout.

"It's Boner Man!" she screeched.

Mary Anne's head snapped up.

My hand flew to my mouth. I guess it's where I'm used to loud, embarrassing things coming from. My eyes met Mary Anne's, and I kept my mouth covered, both out of horror and the fact that I _really_ wanted to laugh at what Miranda had said.

Miranda, meanwhile, had flipped open my phone and was attempting to engage Derek in conversation.

The look on Mary Anne's face went from shock to horror to hurt to anger in about three seconds flat. My hackles went up at the anger I saw in her eyes. She was with Logan again. We both had something to yell about.

But as I prepared myself for battle I was suddenly pulled outside. Ashley was wrapping her jacket around herself against the brisk night air. Miranda was still talking to Derek. And Shannon had her hand wrapped around my upper arm. "Just walk away." She said gently.

I pursed my lips and snatched my phone from Miranda, not looking back into the restaurant. But I felt her in there, stealing glances at my back, the whole time we waited for Watson.

* * *

"I don't think your step dad liked me." Miranda said casually as she languidly dipped a tortilla chip into salsa. This girl can make anything look dramatic.

"What makes you think that?" I asked, snatching the bag from her.

"How about the fact that she said 'boner' about sixty times during the ride home?" Ashley asked from under her hair. She was doing some sort of freakish yoga on my floor.

"Or that she said 'shit' about ten times." Shannon added, stroking Shannon the dog's head.

"Well . . . " I grinned. I could tell Watson had pretty much hated Miranda by the time we'd gotten home. He's not ultra-conservative but Miranda's a little over the edge of his taste. "He _is_ used to the Baby-Sitters Club."

Ashley laughed loudly from under her hair. "The BSC, saving the world one child at a time."

I glanced at Shannon, and I saw an uneasy look pass over her face. I'm sure she saw the same thing in mine. Not six months ago the BSC had been our lives. We'd been so confident in ourselves, doing good, spreading joy, solving mysteries.

There is also the fact that _I_ am the Idea Machine, and all that do-gooding was pretty much on my hands.

Is that really a bad thing?

"It's not so much the things you guys did," Miranda said, as if reading my thoughts. I could tell by the look on her face she was worried she may have offended me. She may have. "It's that you did so _much_ so _often._ I mean, parades, camps, sleep overs, charities, crime-fighting-" She grinned at that. So did I. "- it's just... we all had enough of your club after a while. Because you guys were such a clique. Never sitting with anybody at lunch, never making new friends unless they were good baby-sitters. I mean, Kristy, we were really good friends in seventh grade."

"Yeah." I muttered.

"And so were Claudia and I, when I fist moved here." Ashley added. "She stopped being friends with me because she wasn't allowed to miss your silly club meetings."

"I was thinking about kicking her out." I said, somewhat ashamed. Again, I wondered to myself if the BSC hadn't been what I claimed to hate. Self-righteous snobs.

"And you _did_ kick out Stacey over the same sort of thing." Shannon pointed out. The girl I had once instantly judged as a snob because she was rich. Because all rich people must be snobs. She turned out to be pretty great. I'm rich, too. But I'm no snob.

At least, not anymore.

"Hey! Did you guys see that rerun of _Sex and the City_ last night?" Miranda suddenly asked, thankfully changing the subject. Shannon gasped and the two were off and running about something Samantha said. Ashley continued her freaky yoga. I tuned the girls out for a moment to pop my new CD into my player, and turned the volume low. Just as the first song began, my phone rang. I glanced at my clock. After ten. Probably Derek again. I looked toward the sound of my phone and saw Miranda diving for it. I grinned. She won't leave it alone. I hope, for the sake of my relationship with Derek, that she gets her own.

"Hey, hot stuff!" She shouted into the phone as she opened it. Then- "Oh. Oh, sorry. Uhhh, yeah, she's right here. Hang on _Mary Anne._" She put a lot of emphasis on the name and stared at me with buggy eyes. "She sounds pissed." She said, covering the mouthpiece.

I groaned, taking my phone. Taking a deep breath, I put it to my ear. "Hey, Mary Anne!" I said cheerfully.

"Hey. What, are having a party or something?"

Miranda had quickly lost interest in the conversation and was flipping through the TV channels, loudly declaring that _Sex and the City_ must be on somewhere.

"Uh, no. The girls just came over to hang out." I replied lamely.

"Oh. Who all is there?"

"Miranda, Ashley, and-"

"_Eeeeeiiiiii!_" Miranda and Shannon both squealed as Sarah Jessica Parker's face came on the screen.

"-Shannon." I finished, rolling my eyes and smiling.

"Shannon's there? I thought she was too busy for her friends."

Ouch. "I think it was more like she was too busy for a bunch of girls _pretending_ to be her friends." I replied testily. And then, for good measure, "And girls who are endlessly creating drama breaking up with and getting back together with their boyfriends."

Mary Anne sucked in a breath.

I waited.

"So she's rather hang out with sluts?"

"_WHAT!_" I shouted. But I heard a click. I looked at my phone. It was flashing Mary Anne's number. She'd hung up on me. I quickly hit the send button to call her back. I go out with a guy once and suddenly I'm a _slut_? She was not getting away with this. She was going to hear what I _really_ think now.

I was met by a busy signal.

Great. She took the phone of the hook. What a baby.

The girls were staring at me open-mouthed. I guess I'd shouted pretty loud. I just shook my head plugged my headphones into my stereo to listen in private. They let me be.

The first song was just ending. I sighed and thought of Derek, and how he loves this band. I listened to the words, and they hit home.

_I could be mean_

_I could be angry_

_You know I could be just like you_

_I could be fake_

_I could be stupid_

_You know I could be just like you_

_You thought you were standing beside me_

_You were only in my way_

_You're wrong if you think that I'll be just like you_

Sighing, I angrily ripped the headphones from my ears, stood, and crossed the room to join Miranda, Shannon, and now Ashley, who was no longer a pretzel, in watching Carrie Bradshaw screw up with Big. Again.

"She should just get over that jerk and move on with her life." I said. I might have been talking more about Mary Anne.

I sat next to Miranda, who silently slipped and arm around my shoulder. I exchanged a smile with her, glad that she had been assigned to the same home room as I. If she hadn't, I don't think I would have met Derek. And I would not be seeing my so-called "friends" for what they really are.


	6. Chapter 6

_a/n - finally, an update! yay! this will happen more often, i swear._

* * *

six

"Kristy!"

I jumped, watching myself in the mirror as I did. I had been staring at myself for nearly ten minutes, amazed at what the girls had done to me. Claudia had made me over before, always using bright colors and giggling. But Shannon, Miranda, and Ashley had made it look almost natural, professional. Shades of deep brown and gold above my eyes, black lines perfectly across my lids, my lashes long and curled. A faint sweep of pink on my cheeks brought my cheekbones up and made me look older. My lips were colored in a nude gloss, Shannon teaching me how to make them appear more plump. They had taught me how to do all of this, and I was fairly confident I could do it alone.

I straightened my shirt - the red sleeveless, along with the black and red pinstripe pants and black sandals. I looked good. Miranda said I looked hot. Maybe I do.

"Kristy! Derek's here!"

"Oh!" I gasped. I hadn't heard the doorbell. God, he's here. I looked at myself again. Will he like this? Do I look _too_ different?

I sprayed a wisp of perfume on my neck and ran for the stairs, taking them two at a time. As I approached the hallway I slowed, catching my breath, composing myself. I heard Derek's voice and relaxed. My mom burst out laughing. Good. They're getting along. I took a deep breath and stepped into the entryway, where my mom was still shaking her head and Derek stood, smiling. He was dressed nice, in all black. He looked to me, and for a moment, froze.

I smiled at him, and he exhaled. "Wow, Kristy..."

Mom looked back and forth between us, smiling. She'd nearly cried when she saw me.

"You look amazing." He finished simply. Mom grinned wide.

"Thanks." I replied. "You look pretty good yourself."

Derek tugged at his shirt, seeming almost self-conscious. "Next to you and your mom, I look like a vagrant."

Mom laughed again. "Oh, hush, Derek. Dinner isn't ready yet, by the way. About twenty more minutes."

"Why don't--" I began. I cut off as the door opened. Watson stepped in. He looked from Mom, to Derek, and finally to me, where he paused in a surprise a moment. He smiled thinly, looking back to Derek. He held out his hand. "Derek, right? I'm Kristy's stepfather."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Brewer." Derek replied, shaking his hand. Watson held on for a bit too long, looking Derek up and down. The black clothes. The shaggy hair. Uhg. He hates him.

"Well!" Mom said, breaking it up before it could get uncomfortable. Watson released Derek's hand. "Kristy, why don't you give Derek a tour of the house while I finish up dinner?" She said cheerfully.

I nodded and motioned for Derek to follow me, glancing at Watson. The look on his face was something between untrusting and... just that "Dad" look that dad's get. It's hard to describe. I flashed him a smile, and he smiled back at me, this time more genuine.

Derek put his hand on my back as I led the way upstairs. "Tour?"

I giggled. "Naw. Just come on into my room. We'll put on some music."

"Your music?" Derek asked suspiciously.

We reached the top of the stairs, and I gave him a small shove. "My taste in music is just fine."

He grinned and followed me into my room. He didn't make an attempt to close the door. Good. Sam and Charlie have an "open door" rule when it comes to girls,. And I'm sure it applies to me, as well. I just didn't want to have to explain that to him and feel like such a baby.

Derek paused at my dresser and examined the framed pictures on top. I made a beeline for my CD player and hit "play," then "random," proud that I had his favorite band ready to go.

As the first song came on, Derek didn't seem to notice. He merely picked up one of the frames and walked toward me. "You're really good friends with those girls, huh?"

I looked at the picture. It was of me, Mary Anne, Claudia, Stacey, and Dawn, all standing in a line, smiling big, with the pacific ocean behind us. California. I pictured Mallory behind the camera, with that hideous blonde hair. Jessi wasn't with us. She was on that TV show set.

"I was..." I said softly. "They've changed. Or maybe I have. I don't know anymore. Dawn moved to back to California." I said, pointing to her. "I haven't talked to her in ages. Claudia and Stacey are best friends, but Stacey can be a real bitch, and Claud tends to stick with her. Mary Anne is my best friend." My voice was a whisper now. I looked away from the picture, hating that sting of tears at the back of my eyes.

Derek looked at the picture for a moment longer, then tossed it to the bed. "Hey." He said, putting his arms around me. "It's alright. Friends come and go, you know? Yeah, they may be pulling away, but it seems like you're making new ones."

The song switched over and an acoustic guitar began to play. Derek pulled back and smiled. "I love that you bought this CD."

I gave him a small smile. "I wanted to get to know you better. This whole album is so sad, though. About breaking up. Did you have a bad break-up or something?"

He shrugged. "Sorta." He swayed me to the music a little. "Doesn't matter. I have you."

I shivered, and he felt it. Putting his hand under my chin, he pushed my face up, leaned down, and kissed me softly. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back. I could kiss him for hours, I think.

The song picked up, and Derek pulled away, grinning devilishly. He pushed me backward until I bumped in a wall, then kissed me again, harder this time. It felt bad. Like Friday night. I squeaked a little in surprise, but surrendered to the kiss. It felt amazing.

I felt his hands, which were resting on my hips, slowly begin to move. Upward, slowly, his fingers digging into my skin. Not enough to hurt. It just felt good. Bart had never done that, never really touched me at all. Maybe he'd thought I would get mad. Maybe I would have.

But not with Derek.

Slowly, slowly, his hands moved further up. I had a feeling I knew where they were going, and I really didn't care. It felt so good to have someone like me this way. _This_ is what I've been missing? What I've been so afraid of? Why?

Finally his hands stopped at my underarms, and his grasp on my skin changed, became more gentle. His kiss became more gentle, as well. As his hands moved across my chest I pulled away from his mouth, inhaling sharply. It was so different. How can someone else's hands feel so different? So... so _good_?

He smiled at me, his face still against mine, his eyes in droopy slits. I pressed my mouth to his again. Oh my Lord. What am I doing?

His hands moved again, and this thing his fingers rested on my nipple. Oh, God. My nipple. A guy has his fingers on my nipple. I have a shirt on, but–

All thoughts flew out of my head as he squeezed, ever so slightly. Another squeak escaped me, louder this time. Or maybe it was a moan, I don't know. Moan sounds sexier.

"Kristy, Derek!"

We jumped apart, gasping for breath. I looked at Derek wide-eyed, not wanting to stop. He gave me a lopsided grin.

"Dinner in five minutes, kids!" Mom called.

Kids. I don't know about kids. Derek and I continued to stare at each other. Finally, I laughed. "You have my lip gloss all over your mouth."

He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. "I messed your hair up." He answered.

I dashed to my bathroom to reapply my gloss and fix my hair. Derek followed me, leaning against the door frame to watch. "You don't need all that stuff, you know."

I stopped in mid-swipe. "You don't like it?"

"I love it. You look very . . . " I watched him in the mirror as he moved toward me. "Sexy."

Sexy? Me?

He wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on top of my head. And messing up my hair again. We looked at each other for a few moments in the mirror. I smiled. We looked . . . right. Like we belong together. I finished putting on my lip gloss with his arms still around me.

Is this what it's like to be in love?

"Kids?" My mother called again.

Derek sighed and let me go. I fluffed my hair, not caring if it looked messy. I just wanted to hold his hand and have dinner with my family.

* * *

Nothing could phase me. Not Sam shooting Derek dirty looks and not talking through the entire meal. Not Watson looking irritated every time Derek made Mom laugh. Not David Michael making gross jokes. Not even Shannon the dog slobbering on my new pants. Nothing could wipe the grin off of my face. I wondered if Mom or Watson suspected what we'd been doing. I wondered if Derek was thinking about me even when he was talking to my mother. He kept shooting me these private, sexy winks from across the table. In the back of my head, I wondered if I should do something for him in return. Do guys expect that? Or was he fine with just what we had done. Should I ask him? Am I _ready_ to... to... to what? Feel _his _chest? Or... that?

I shook myself out of it as my mother burst out in another peal of laughter. Looking around the table, I could see that dinner was pretty much over. I glanced at my watch. Seven-thirty. Early.

I didn't want this night to be over yet.

Catching Derek's eye, I raised my eyebrow at him, tilting my head backward ever so slightly. _Let's get out of here._

He nodded and winked again. "Kristy, do you want to go see a movie or something?" He asked as he set his napkin on his plate.

"Sure! If... if that's okay?" I asked, glancing at Mom.

Mom waved her hand. "That's fine. Just remember you have school tomorrow. Back by eleven."

I grinned.

"How about I give you two a ride to the theater?" Watson asked. I'm not sure if he's being nice of if he just doesn't trust Derek. I almost panicked. I know Derek brought his car, had parked it down the street. I looked at Derek, trying to avoid Sam's cocky grin.

"No, that's okay, Mr. Brewer. My brother dropped me off, he's at a friends house just a couple blocks away, waiting for me. He'll be fine with taking us into town." Derek replied.

"And bringing Kristy home again?" Watson asked, frowning.

"Sure. He _just_ got this car of his. He's always offering to drive me places." Derek replied smoothly. I fought the urge to grin. _I _almost believed him.

Both Derek and I stood up at that moment. Mom looked from one of us to the other. "So soon?"

"Well, by the time we get there, get tickets..." I said lamely.

Mom nodded. "Okay. Derek, you _must_ come for dinner with us again."

"I'd love to, Mrs. Brewer. You're a great cook."

"Call me Elizabeth." Mom replied, a faint blush touching her cheeks.

I grabbed Derek's hand and walked quickly out of the dining room. "Bye, Sam, David Michael, Mr. Brewer. Good night, Elizabeth." Derek called as I dragged him out.

"You." I said as I slammed the front door behind us. "Are very good at that."

"Mom's love me. What can I say?" He said with a grin, pulling me into a quick kiss. He held my hand as he led me down the street to his car. "Are we really going to the movies?"

"Did you want to?"

Derek released my hand and put his arm around my waist, instead. "Not really. I want to go somewhere where I can see you."

I shivered, and he pulled me closer. It's not cold out. This guy just makes me shiver.

"Why don't we go to the harbor?" I suggested. _Harbor_ is exaggerating. It's more like a small dock with a couple boats tied to it. But the moon should be hanging over the water tonight, and it could be quite... romantic. God.

"Sure." He murmured, stopping at his car to yank open the passenger door for me. "It's a plan."

We spent the ride, which took nearly twenty minutes, in silence. Once in a while Derek would look at me and smile, or squeeze my thigh, which is where his right hand lay. Not my knee. Much further up. I wondered again what, if anything, he expected me to do. I wondered what I _wanted_ to do. Earlier, in my room, I could feel myself losing control, something I normally hate. But I had _liked_ it. If Mom hadn't called us? What would I have let happen? I closed my eyes, reliving it. Heat crept up my neck, to my face as I remembered it, as I wondered.

I could picture us continuing. Maybe Derek's hands moving down again, this time slipping up under my shirt. I'm not wearing a bra. I still don't need one.

My eyes popped open and I sucked in a breath. I felt hot all over. _Everywhere. _

I looked over at Derek. He met my eyes and raised his eyebrows. "Whoa."

"Hmm?" I asked, smirking.

He looked back toward the road and turned. He parked the car in a small, empty lot a few hundred feet away from the "harbor." As soon as the engine was off he put his arm around me, pulling me toward him. "That look you gave me."

"What look?" I asked innocently.

He kissed me. The bad kiss, not the sweet one. His hands tangled in my hair. I was almost disappointed. But then his mouth started to move, not just my lips but my nose, my eyelids, my cheeks, my ears. My neck. Places no mouth has ever touched me before. Making me giggle, making me tingle. Then, being bold, I decided to try it, too. I laid kisses all across his face. His ears. His neck. He loved it.

We kept at it for quite some time, exploring these new areas. I discovered that I could make _him_ shiver by blowing in his ear. He discovered he could make me squeak... moan... whatever... by dragging his lips and tongue across my collarbone. I lost track of time. But I think it was about a half an hour after we got there that his hands made their way to my chest again. He made slow, lazy circles with his fingers as his kissed me. It wasn't nearly as dramatic as before. Probably because before was the first time anyone other than myself had touched them. But I felt myself losing control again, and this time there was nobody here to stop us.

His hands began to move down. Just like I pictured. Now he would slowly put them under my shirt, and...

One of his hands kept moving. Before I could grasp what he was doing his hand had gently brushed between my legs. I gasped and sat up, pushed him away before I let it happen.

We sat for a moment, staring at each other, breathing heavily. Finally he sighed. "Sorry."

"No, it's... okay." No it wasn't. What am I _doing_? "I've just... never done any of this before."

"Any of it? At all?" He asked, almost shocked.

"No." I looked down, embarrassed. "I mean, I like it, I do. But..."

"Hey." He said, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. He scooted closer, putting his arm around my shoulder. "It's cool. Whatever you want, okay? I respect that."

I smiled and leaned my head on his shoulder. We looked out at the water for a few moments. I decided to ask.

"Derek?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you a virgin?"

"Tsk. Does it make a difference?"

I bit my lip, unsure.

He was silent for a few moments. Then- "No. I'm not."

I nodded, my head still on his shoulder.

"Is that okay?" He asked, sounding worried.

I sat up and faced him. "It's fine. I was just wondering." I kissed him again. The bad kiss. He seemed a little surprised, but went with it.

I couldn't see his face, my eyes were closed. So I don't know how surprised he was when I grabbed his hands and placed them at my waist. I pulled my shirt up a little and moved one of his hands to my stomach. He got the hint.

He did it slowly, again. Slower than before, actually. Because this was different. Just the feel of his hands on my bare stomach sent shockwaves up my spine. I kissed him hard, squeaking here and there (moaning, moaning... uhg. I am not a mouse.) as his hands moved slowly, painstakingly, up. Finally, after what felt like hours, he touched me. Immediately my head fell backward and I moaned again, this time louder, this time it was different. My entire body felt like it was on fire. Suddenly the idea of his hand between my legs didn't seem so bad. _Nothing_ seemed bad. I wanted him to touch me everywhere, and I wanted to touch _him_, to see him, to kiss him everywhere.

Derek bowed his head down and kissed my chest on top of my shirt. Oh, how I wanted him to do it without the shirt. But I didn't dare. Not in a car. Not in a public parking lot.

We began to wind down. Slowly, his mouth moved back to my lips. Slowly, his hands backed out of my shirt. Slowly, the tingling died down. Slowly, I caught my breath. And finally, we pulled away from each other. I rolled down my window because I was sweating. So was he. I sat back and sighed, looking over at him. He looked back and chuckled.

What do you say? Thanks? More next time? What?

I just stayed quiet. Derek leaned over and kissed my cheek. "You ready to go home?"

I looked at my watch. It was after ten. "Yeah. Sure."

* * *

In the morning, my radio blared Good Charlotte when it came to life. I frowned as I opened my eyes and shut it off. They _are_ pretty dumb.

I slowly made my way to the bathroom. My hair was a disaster. I didn't feel like curling it. I'll leave it straight today. But down. And maybe a little to the side.

Instead of dealing with my hair, I decided to try my makeup. I worked for nearly forty-five minutes, painstakingly. The end result was not nearly as good as the girls had done, but decent.

Staring at myself in the mirror, I dropped my robe to the floor and observed myself naked. My breasts are starting to grow a little. Almost undetectable, but I see it. Maybe I should start wearing my bras.

I looked at myself for a long time, thinking about Derek. Should I tell anyone? Had my friends gone that far? Any of them? Mary Anne? Miranda?

A week ago I was still so innocent. How insane is this? Six days into high school and I'm getting felt up. And I _made_ him do it!

I sighed and picked up my robe again. The girls would want details of the dinner. Maybe I would tell them what we did. See if they've done it. I'd feel a lot better knowing I'm not a slut. Mary Anne called me one. Am I?

Today should be interesting.

* * *

"You _slut_!" Miranda exclaimed loudly.

"Shhhhh!" I yelped. Mr. Glassman gave us a frown, but didn't say anything.

"Kristin, Kristin, Kristin." Ashley grinned, shaking her head. "Whatever shall we do with you?"

I had only gotten as far as what happened in my room before dinner.

"So, how'd you like it? Awesome, right? I remember the first time Pete Black did it. He's such a loser, but I was, like, _whoa._ You know?" Miranda chirped on.

Ashley laughed. "I did that with this boy, Raymond, back in Chicago. I know exactly what you mean. The first time is very strange."

I closed my eyes, relieved. I'm not some freak. I bent closer to them. "Well," I began. "That's not _all_ that happened..."

The day flew by. It was a blur of giggling with the girls, avoiding the BSC, and stealing kisses in the hallways. After school the girls and I went to rosebud to hang out until I had to go to the BSC meeting. Derek had homework to catch up on. Finally out of school, I could give them the details they'd been dying for. Miranda spent the whole time squealing. Ashley just shook her head and laughed a lot.

I headed off for the meeting alone. When I got to the Kishi's door it was 5:32. I headed up the stairs slowly, and marched into Claud's room without a word. I plopped into the director's chair and stared straight ahead.

"Nice of you to show up." Stacey said sarcastically.

"Boyfriend's car break down?" Mary Anne asked.

Claud stayed out of it.

I just stared straight ahead until the end of the meeting. We only got two calls. I didn't take any jobs.

At six I simply stood up and walked out wordlessly.

Nobody said goodbye.


	7. Chapter 7

Seven.

"Baby-Sitters Club." Mary Anne sighed into the phone. She sounded as listless as I felt. It was Friday. Yet another club meeting. I glanced at the clock, twirling my visor around my finger. I hadn't put it on for the past three meetings. My pencil seems to be missing in action, too. It's only five thirty-five.

It's going to be a long meeting.

It feels different to me today. Mary Anne and Stacey have yet to make comments. They haven't said anything to me at all. Claudia had said hi and handed me a bag of M&M's.

"Monday night? Sure, Mrs. Newton. I'll call you back."

Mary Anne hung up the phone with another sigh, picking up the record book. She opened it and skimmed a page. "She needs a sitter for the kids on Monday from seven til about ten." She said to nobody in particular. Then she made a face. "I don't know what's going on anymore." She almost growled, throwing down the record book. "It says everyone's free. I don't know your guys' schedules. I'm sure _Kristy_ is busy."

Once upon a time, it seemed Mary Anne knew our schedules better than we knew our own. Once upon a time, I would have exploded at Mary Anne.

Things change.

"I am busy." Is all I said.

I'm not. And I love Jamie and Lucy. I'm just not in the mood for baby-sitting. It's a shocking first, I know.

"I have way too much homework." Stacey muttered. She was examining her hair, probably for split ends.

"Art class." Claudia piped up. I glanced at her. She met my eyes and looked away quickly. Was she lying, too?

"Well _I_ am supposed to going out with Dad and Sharon that night." Mary Anne huffed.

I stared at the wall. Around me, I could see the girls glancing at each other.

Mary Anne heaved another sigh and picked up the phone. She called Mrs. Newton back to apologize. Nobody could do it. From her end of the call, I could tell Mrs. Newton wasn't happy.

There goes another client.

I leaned back in the director's chair a little. I quickly tallied our remaining clients in my head. The number was pathetic. I shook my head to myself, glancing at the clock again.

Five forty.

I looked around Claud's room. Stacey still examining her hair. Claudia popping M&M's into her mouth thoughtfully. Mary Anne flipping through the record book, making frustrated noises. Me, President Kristy, treating the club as if it were already over.

Maybe it is.

I bent the rim of my visor thoughtfully. I don't think any of us really want to be here. I don't think any of us are very interested in keeping the club alive. Not even me. If I were, I would dive to the phone and call Mrs. Newton back, tell her I'd be happy to sit, please don't call someone else, stay with us, you're our oldest, best client.

But I really don't want to.

Is my business over? Is my great idea really dwindling into nothing? Six months ago we had ten members - eleven, if you count Dawn. Now we're down to four members, all of whom seem uninterested in keeping the club afloat. We're in high school now. We're growing up. We're growing out of it.

Really?

I looked at the clock again. Five forty-four.

Halfway through and not only have we not lined up any jobs, we've _lost_ a client.

I sighed, shifting in the chair. Derek would be waiting for me after the meeting. From here we were going back to my house, where I would get ready. He's taking me to a party at Crystal's house. A Junior's party. I wondered if my brother would be there. I thought about what I was going to wear. How I would do my hair. Should I do the makeup thing? I wanted to impress Crystal and Derek's other friends. They think of me as a baby. I sort of wished Miranda or Ashley or Shannon could go, too. But Derek said Crystal didn't want too many freshman around.

Karen and Andrew are coming tomorrow. We've got them for the month of September. I smiled to myself, knowing the stories I would be hearing. Andrew in kindergarten, Karen gigundo happy about third grade.

Five fifty-one.

I sat up, clearing my throat. The girls all looked at me, despite themselves. Habit, I guess.

"Business." I said carefully.

Stacey raised her eyebrows, but didn't say anything.

"I move for a vote on . . . a vote on . . . " Come on, Thomas, just say it. It's over. You know it's over.

The phone rang.

I sat back with a sigh as Mary Anne picked it up. It was still next to her. Am I jumping the gun? Should I do this?

"Monday night?" Mary Anne asked, her face falling.

It's over.

Mary Anne carefully broke the news to Mr. Dewitt that nobody was available. There goes another one. Buddy, Suzi . . .

I sat forward again as Mary Anne hung up the phone, looking at me expectantly. I think she knew what I was about to say, because I could see her eyes starting to shine. I wanted to tell her to stop being such a baby. I wanted to not do what I was about to do. I wanted to be back in eighth grade.

"I move we disband the club." I said sternly. Officially. Seriously.

I wanted to cry. I cried once, at the idea of losing my club. Long ago, when we first started, and some silly older girls with an interest only in money came along and quickly beat us at our own game - until we realized that they were neglecting the kids they were sitting for and had Mrs. Newton spread that like wildfire. I cried then, because it had been _such_ a good idea, and I cried not for losing my business but for the fact that those girls had a _better_ idea. Because I have to be the best. Not today, though. Nobody is beating me at my own game. I'm just ending an important part of my life.

Mary Anne didn't look surprised at my movement. Neither did Stacey, who'd once loved the club so much because it gave her friends, something she'd lost a lot of in New York. But Claudia gasped. "What? Kristy, no. We're just . . . it's just another stupid fight. This'll all blow over in a week! Guys?"

"I second." Stacey said evenly.

"You guys, this is dumb. We've done it before. We're just hitting a bump. Why don't we just relax for a couple weeks, cool off . . . " Claudia trailed off.

"Third." Mary Anne whispered, her voice thick with tears.

I met Claudia's eyes, which were also filled with tears. Mine wanted to be. I swallowed, fighting them back.

Claud just stared at me, chewing on a Twinkie.

"Majority, Claud." I said quietly.

She blinked, a tear spilling from her right eye. A trail of mascara followed it. She didn't wipe it away.

"Well then." I said, standing. "I officially declare The Baby-Sitters Club . . . over. Meeting adjourned."

I strode across the room, the girls watching me. When I got to the doorway, somebody called, "How do we tell–"

I'm pretty sure it was Mary Anne. I cut whoever it was off. "Figure it out yourselves." I snapped, keeping my back to them. I was going to cry.

I ran down the stairs, out the door. Never again. Never again would I come to this house and laugh with the best friends I'd ever had. I slammed the front door behind me, flying to the curb, where Derek's heap was parked. I jumped in, saying "Get me out of here."

He raised his eyebrows but obeyed. I looked at the house as he started the car. Never again.

We had gotten maybe a half a mile from Claudia's house when I began to cry. No. Not cry. I _sobbed._ Derek kept saying my name, over and over, asking if I was okay. I ignored him, my hands pressed to my face.

Finally, Derek pulled over. He scooted toward me, putting his arms around me. "What happened, Kristy? Tell me what happened."

I told him, gasping and sniffling. "I'm . . . I'm sorry. I never cry like this, it's just . . . "

He hugged me tight. "It's okay, baby. Cry all you want."

I can't even remember the last time I cried. I always swallow it down, keep it in. Kristy, she's so strong. Nothing gets to her.

I moaned about how Mary Anne and Claudia had been friends of mine since we were babies. Derek just held me tight, telling me things would be okay.

"You have me, now." He said.

* * *

"Oh, Kristy. Why?"

"What?" I called from my bathroom, tugging my hair through my straightening iron. I liked this thing.

"Keith Urban? _Why_ do you have a Keith Urban CD?"

I giggled, admiring my hair. The iron made it very shiny. Derek was browsing my CD collection, groaning about everything, as the Three Days Grace CD played softly in the background.

"At least you have the Rolling Stones." He called.

"At least." I replied, smiling. I felt a lot better. It had been just an hour since I'd left Claudia's house, but I felt better. I'd known this was coming. I started to get the idea months ago, when members of the club started dropping like flies. I shouldn't have let it get to me so bad. It's just a middle school club. Some day I'll be President of the United States and I'll look back and scoff at how silly my club was.

That silly little club. Ashley's words.

"I'm almost done with your mix CD, by the way. I'll bring it to school on Monday. So, like, prepare to have your mind blown."

I switched off the iron, grinning to myself. "I'll prepare. And someday, I'm going to make you dance to a Justin Timberlake song and you're going to like it."

Derek snorted. "We'll see about that."

I waltzed back into my room, spreading my arms wide. I twirled. "What do you think?"

"Very hot." Derek said, nodding approvingly. I looked down at myself. I was wearing (tight) blue jeans and a small black T-shirt. Not exactly dressed up. Or hot. I sat on my bed and pulled on a pair of black platform sandals. I've always wanted to try platforms, be a little taller, but I always felt like . . . I don't know. They were too girly?

I stood up with the sandals on. Derek jumped up from the floor and stood next to me. He put his hands on my waist. "Oh, hey. I like this." He said, grinning. The top of my head was now up to his nose. He kissed me lightly. "Less leaning. Much easier on my back and neck."

I giggled again. I've never been much of a giggler. He just brings it out in me.

"You ready?" He asked, running his hands up my back. I fought the urge to shiver.

"Yeah, I'm ready. Let's blow this hot dog stand."

Derek looked around as I led him to the hall. "Pretty nice for a hot dog stand."

"Solid gold corn dog sticks." I replied with a nod, grabbing his hand. I whisked him down the stairs and to the front door, Shannon skidding at our heels. "Nannie, we're leaving! I'll be home by eleven, bye!"

I didn't give her time to answer before I shut the door. Mom and Watson had gone out again. I'm not sure if it's becoming a Friday night tradition or if they just wanted to get out before Karen and Andrew show up. I hoped it was the latter, I don't want to get stuck baby-sitting every Friday.

The car ride was uneventful. I'm becoming very comfortable with Derek, and am still marveling at the fact that only a week ago I was incredibly tense riding in this car. Things change. How _fast_ things change.

When he pulled to a stop in front of Crystal's house, he turned to me. He looked serious.

"I just want you to know . . . people are going to be drinking. And other stuff. Are you going to be cool with that?" Translation: You're not gone freak out and get all goody-goody on me, are you?

I thought about it. "No. I mean, I don't really approve of this stuff, and I don't really _do_ it--" Ever. "–but it's cool. I mean, you only live once, right?" I smiled.

Derek relaxed a little. "Maybe you should have a drink or two. It'll relax you, make you feel better about the club and stuff."

"Maybe . . . " I murmured. Would I have a drink? I am aware that alcohol is not, in fact, an evil thing. My parents drink, my friend's parents drink, and the stories I heard from Dawn out in California were pretty wild. I'm sure many of my classmates drink, and I'm pretty sure Claudia may have tried it a time or two. On Charlie's last night with us, before he left for school, Mom and Watson had opened a bottle of champagne and allowed Charlie, Sam, and I each to have a glass. It had left me feeling tipsy and a little lightheaded, nothing more. Charlie had kept going with Mom and Watson and had _three_ glasses. Nothing bad happened.

I nodded to myself as Derek led me to the house. Okay. I'll have a drink. Live and let live, right?

He didn't bother ringing the doorbell, just waltzed right into the house. I followed, suddenly feeling very aware of my age. But–

"Derek!" Crystal squealed, running up to us and wrapping him in a hug. "And Kristy! You came! I'm so glad!" She hugged me, as well. I could smell beer on her breath. The girl was already plowed. "Do you guys want a drink? Kristy, what do you like?"

"I've never really drank before." I replied. "I don't know."

"_Never?!_" Crystal was aghast. Then she spun around. "Hey guys! We've got a _virgin_!"

The other people in the room, about ten of them, cheered, holding up their cups. I looked at Derek in horror. "What are they going to do to me?" I asked, a little scared.

"They're going to get you drunk." Derek said simply, shrugging. He had a little smile on his face. Crystal, who had disappeared momentarily, reappeared, balancing three cups. She shoved one at Derek, then handed one to me.

"I've got the same thing as you. It's a tradition. The host suffers as much as the virgin."

"What is it?" I asked, sniffing at the cup. I nearly choked. Whatever it was, it was strong and smelled like cough syrup.

She ignored me. "EVERYBODY! Raise your cups!" She held up her own, and guided my arm up when I didn't. "To Kristy, tonight's virgin! I'm sorry for tomorrow!" Everybody laughed. What does that mean?

"On the count of three, Kristy!" She exclaimed. "We all drink with you! You have to finish!"

I took a deep breath. Was this their way of welcoming me to their group? I smiled at Crystal and nodded. "Okay. I'm ready." I'm not.

"One, two, three, _DRINK!_"

I tipped the cup up with closed eyes. I almost gagged as soon as it hit my tongue. It tasted awful. It was _horrible_.

"Drink, drink, drink!" People were chanting around me, cheering me on.

I gulped. And gulped. My stomach churned, but I gulped. A cheering crowd is always a big help.

I finished and sucked in a breath. Don't throw up. Don't do it. Everyone in the room was cheering. Crystal hugged me again. "Alright, Kristy!" She yelled. "Welcome to the world!"

I smiled and nodded. If I talk, I'll throw up.

The crowd went back to their business as quickly as they'd joined in. Two guys sitting on a couch playing guitars. One of them was Kyle, one of the guys I met at The Rosebud. Crystal's boyfriend, Rob, was sitting on the arm of the couch singing. Three people sitting on the floor with a deck of cards. Two girls sitting by the open window with cigarettes in their hands.

And Derek, putting his arm around my shoulder. "You okay?" He asked me quietly.

"Okay." I replied. It was almost a yelp. But I didn't throw up.

"Come on. Let's go sit down." He said gently.

As soon as I moved, it hit me. That tipsy, lightheaded feeling. Times a thousand. I stumbled, but Derek held onto me tight. I laughed. "Oh, my Lord!" I cried. "This is _not_ going to end well."

Derek laughed, too. "Not much more for you, virgin." He replied, pushing me down to the couch. He flopped next to me and grabbed my hand. "See? This isn't too bad, huh?"

"It's great!"

Crystal flew into the room again, two more drinks in her hand. She shoved a cup into mine. "Here you go, virgin." She said with a smile. "It's not as strong this time, and you don't have to gulp it. Good job, by the way. The last guy threw up before he could finish."

I glanced at Derek in horror. He nodded as Crystal flew away again. "It wasn't pretty."

My stomach rumbled again. I sipped the drink in my hand. No, not as strong. And it tasted good. Like juice. I took a longer drink, hoping to settle the growling and looked around the room. "This seems pretty calm. When you said party, I thought . . . "

"Wild?" Derek asked with a smile. "It's early. A lot more people are coming, trust me. Give it an hour."

So I did. I sat on the couch with Derek, sipping my drink and watching everyone else. Kyle and Rob and the other guy were really good, fun to listen to. Slowly, the room began to fill. More and more people, until finally it got too loud, and the guys put down their guitars and turned on the stereo.

Then I had to pee.

"Derek!" I yelled over the music. "I have to go–"

"Down the hall and to the right!" He replied automatically. "You want me to come with you?"

"Naw, save our spot!" I said, standing up. Immediately, I fell back to the couch. Derek laughed. So did I. I tried again, slowly this time. Stand, slowly. Good. Now move, slowly. Good. Don't fall down.

You're drunk, Thomas. I told myself, squeezing past body after body. I like it, though and haven't thought about the BSC for quite a while.

The BSC.

I made it to the bathroom, where there were two other girls waiting in front of me. I slumped against the wall. The BSC. My girls. Ugh.

I felt tears threatening. I couldn't push them back, the way I normally can. You're impaired Thomas. Don't cry, don't cry, not, not in front of all these Juniors, don't cry, you're just drunk, stop it.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

That voice. I hate that voice. So nasty. So mean. So pompous. And so something else. Something that was only Cokie Mason.

I turned my head toward her, BSC forgotten. "Having a great time. What the hell are _you_ doing here?"

Cokie looked taken aback. I hadn't really seen her at school at all, or over the summer. She'd changed. Her hair was dyed black. She'd put on a couple pounds. Not enough to make her fat, just enough to make her a little soft. A little less of one of those nasty, skinny girls you love to hate. Why was she surprised at me?

Because I look different. Because I'm drunk. Because I'd said "hell." Because I wasn't surrounded by the club.

"I was invited by the host." She sniffed, looking not at me, but at the wall just to the left of my eyes. Was I intimidating her?

"Oh yeah? Crystal is, like, my boyfriend's best friend." I replied with a grin.

"I heard a rumor about you and Derek Higgins." She grumbled. What was that? Jealousy?

The bathroom door opened then, and it was my turn. I dashed in, Cokie forgotten. When I came out, she was gone.

I stumbled my way back to the couch, back to my Derek. I was almost there when a guy, quite possibly a Senior, put his arms around my waist. "Hey, baby! What's your name?"

"Kristy!" I giggled. Poor, Drunk, Kristy.

"Kristy, you are righteously hot! Wanna dance?"

The crowd parted a bit, and I spotted Derek, sitting in our spot, talking to Rob, a smile on his face, a cigarette in his hand. Derek smokes? Since when?

I didn't have time to think, because I was whirled away. I danced with the guy, whose name I never did get. I'm not much of a dancer, but I didn't care. Neither was he. We had fun, laughing together, for about ten minutes. Then he leaned down and kissed my cheek. "You wanna go somewhere more quiet?" he slurred into my ear.

I giggled nervously. "I can't. I'm sorry! My boyfriend is here with me." I pointed to Derek, who I now had a clear view of, and vice versa. He didn't look mad, just amused.

"Oh, that sucks . . . oh hey! Higgins!" The guy let go of me and stumbled over to Derek. Everybody seems to know him. I followed the guy and plopped down next to Derek once again, breathing heavily. Derek kept talking to the drunk guy, but casually switched his cigarette from his right hand to his left, and put his arm around my shoulders protectively. The smoking. Why didn't I know he smoked? I hate smoking, I hate when people do it.

I waited for Drunk Guy to leave, then casually leaned to Derek's ear. "I didn't know you smoked."

He looked at me and raised his eyebrows. "I do. Sorry. I didn't think it was a big deal."

Is it? I thought about it, and how much trouble I've given people in the past as far as cigarettes are concerned. Charlie . . . ugh. He'd been so angry with me. I was so nosy. What's the big deal, anyway?

I leaned closer and kissed Derek casually, just to see. He kissed me back, and my mouth was filled with a mixture of tastes - beer, cigarettes, a mint he'd had a while ago, and something that is just _him_. The cigarette wasn't fantastic, but I could live with it.

"It's no big deal." I said with a smile, pulling away. I grabbed for my cup. Empty. "Hey. My drink's gone."

"That's because you finished it." Derek stood up slowly, pulling me with him. "Come on. I'll get you another one."

He led me to the kitchen, where he quickly mixed another drink for me. I gulped it down thirstily and put my arms around his neck. "Hey, baby. You wanna go somewhere more quiet?" I asked, only half joking. Derek smiled. Since Sunday, since all of that, we've done nothing more than kiss. As yet another batch of alcohol surged through my blood, I became more brave.

"Mmm. I like Drunk Kristy." He replied, kissing me softly. Then he buried his face in my neck. "You really want to?"

I nodded. God, I wanted to. "Yeah, let's go."

He led me through the kitchen casually - the opposite of the way we had come - to a staircase. "Crystal has a guest room." He murmured, nuzzling my neck.

I gulped. A bedroom. I hope he didn't think I meant going all the way.

As it turned out, I didn't have to worry. We got to the room, Derek clicked the lock behind us and turned on a lamp next to the bed. He put his arms around me and asked what I wanted to do.

And I told him.

If I hadn't been drunk, I probably would have been more shy about it, or at least more discreet. But I wasn't. Drunk Kristy is the same with boys as Everyday Kristy is with everyone, I guess. Things started to get a little hazy, but I do know my shirt was off not two minutes after the door was locked. I wanted to do what I had wanted to do in the car on Sunday. We had privacy now, we could do it. He took his shirt off, too, and then turned off the light. It made things so much more different, so much more . . . well, sexy, I guess? His skin touching mine, mine touching his, his mouth all over my stomach, my chest, and mine as well. We kept at it, just a tangle of us and skin and giggling and sometimes a little moaning, until I noticed it had suddenly gotten quiet downstairs.

The music was off.

"Derek?"

"Mmm?" He replied, kissing my neck.

"They turned the music off."

Derek sat up suddenly. So suddenly, it made _me_ dizzy. "Shit. Cops."

"What?!"

"The cops are coming." He jumped up, tossing me my shirt. "Up, Kristy. Shoes on. We gotta go."

I obeyed, hobbling after him while still struggling with a platform. We bolted down the stairs, where we found Crystal in a nearly empty livingroom, crying, being consoled by Rob. Rob rolled his eyes at us. "Someone's too drunk. I'm gonna put her to bed and handle the cops, if they show. Neighbor came over and said she was calling them."

"Cool. Cheer up, Crystal! It's okay!" Derek called, leading me out the door.

"Bye Crystal! Thank you!" I called as well, trying to keep up with Derek. I heard something about "Virgin" and laughed.

Derek shoved me into his car quickly. Then he drove. Slowly. Nervously.

"I need to get home." He sighed. "What time is it?"

I looked at my watch. "Ten."

"Wow, it's early. I'm sorry, babe. I didn't know the neighbor was gonna do that."

"S'okay." I replied, slumping down in the seat a little. Suddenly I was very tired.

I closed my eyes for a split second, and we were in front of my house. I was kissing Derek. "Do you want me to help you in?" He whispered.

"No, no, I . . . I've got it." I mumbled, opening the door. So tired. I stumbled out of the car. "I'm cool. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay. 'Bye, baby. Sleep well."

"'Bye . . . " I replied. I dragged myself to the house, through the door, inside. Shannon met me, panting happily. I patted her head listlessly and dragged myself up the stairs, thankful everyone appeared to be gone or asleep.

Finally I found it. My bed. Ohhh, my bed. I collapsed into it, fully clothed. Shannon jumped in next to me. I lay there for a moment.

The BSC. Drinking. He smokes. The guest room.

The room spun.

Don't throw up, Thomas.

I closed my eyes and put my hand on Shannon's back. "Save me, Shannon."

She licked my face. I giggled.

I slept.


	8. Chapter 8

_**a/n** -_ it's short and sweet, my apologies. that's just where the chapter ended. i'd like to take a moment to thank all of my reviewers - you guys have got me so pumped for this story! i'm trying to answer you guys personally, i'm getting there, i'm getting there... oh, and a special shout-out to **onlylivingboy**. why? just because!

* * *

Eight.

_I'm sorry for tomorrow_! Crystal had shouted in her toast. And stupid me, standing there with my cup, such a baby, so unknowing of what she meant by that.

I started to get an idea when I rolled out of bed around four a.m. I remember sitting up suddenly, then being hit by both the spins and my stomach churning. And then - _oh, no._ I had to run for my bathroom.

Stupid me, I had left my bedroom door open. Apparently, sometime in the night, Shannon and Boo-boo had changed the guard, because I stumbled over that stupid fat cat on the way to the bathroom. This caused me to veer to the left and slam my foot into my dresser. Boo-boo left my room after that.

When I reached the bathroom, I threw up pretty violently. And yet, I didn't care. I marveled at this as I rinsed my mouth. Still drunk - it was four a.m. and I was _still drunk._

I had collapsed back into bed - still fully clothed, still not caring - and fallen asleep almost immediately.

After that? I slept like the dead. So dead, in fact, that I did not wake up until my cell phone blared - Take me out to the ballgame - from my jeans pocket. My jeans that I was still wearing. I had answered the phone gruffly, under the impression that it was still early. Miranda laughingly informed me that it was almost noon. She wanted party details.

But first, I need to close my shades.

Normally I like my room to be filled with sunlight. But not today. Not now. My head was screaming, my eyes were burning, my stomach was churning - _again. _So I cradled my phone against my shoulder as Miranda ranted about how she'd never gotten a chance to drink and she couldn't believe I'd gotten to first. I stood slowly, fell back down, stood again, winced at the pain in my foot - stupid cat - and yanked my shades. Then I finally gave Miranda my attention. The lack of sunlight helped.

I pulled my curtains closed, too.

"It was fun." I admitted. "Not today. But last night . . . " Oh, last night . . .

"I detect the devil in your voice. Spill it, Kristy. What did you do?"

I giggled. I swear I'm not much of a giggler. "Well, he and I ended up going to the guest room . . . " I gave her a few details. She gasped and giggled the entire time. "Omigod! Kristy! You slut! Am I talking to the real Kristy Thomas, here? The one who made Alan Gray eat a worm in fourth grade?"

I laughed loudly, wincing at the same time. It hurts to laugh. Move. Think. Breathe.

"This is unacceptable. First you get a cell phone before me, you get drunk before me, now you might get to third base before me? I think not. I totally consider this a challenge. I've almost got mom worn down about the phone. I just need to choose a guy. Who will Miranda's next victim be?"

"I'm not gonna get to third--"

My door flew open, spilling evil light into my room once again. Karen bounded in, Emily Junior perched on her shoulder. "Kristy! We're here! Big House September! Want to see my homework? It's gigundoly hard. Why is it so dark? I got new glasses! You--"

"Karen!" I nearly screeched. "Can't you knock?"

She stopped short. "I just--"

"I'm on the phone, I don't feel good, get _out._" I snapped.

She stood, frozen. Her chin quivered slightly.

I pointed to the door. "Out. Now."

"But--"

"_Karen!"_

She spun around and ran out of my room, slamming the door behind her. I sighed. "Sorry, Miranda. My little sister."

Miranda scoffed. "Trust me, I know how it is. My sister may not be little but she's such a nosy bitch I can relate. So, third base . . . "

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

After I hung up with Miranda, I laid back down, propped my foot up, and flipped on my T.V. I fought the urge to call Derek. He'd call me on his own time. So I vegged. I did so, willing my headache away, for about an hour. Until I heard a small knock on my door.

I heaved a sigh. Probably Karen. Or Mom, coming to ask why I'd yelled at my sister. Ask why I was acting so strangely.

_Tap, tap, tap._

"Come in." I called, a warning in my voice.

My door crept open. A small blonde head peeked in. Not the person I was expecting.

"Hey, Andy-pandy." I said, smiling.

Andrew grinned, coming all the way in. He ran to my bed and jumped on. "Karen's sad." He announced.

"Oh yeah?" I asked wearily.

"Yeah. She told Daddy that you yelled at her. Daddy told her sometimes teenagers get more tunnel." He replied matter-of-factly.

More tunnel? "What else did he say?" I asked. I'll get to the bottom of this.

"He said you're just in a bad mood. Are you in a bad mood? Did you get more tunnel?"

Bad mood. More tunnel. Oh! "_Hormonal_!" I exclaimed. They were attributing me blowing up at Karen as hormones? My cheeks reddened at the thought of Watson thinking . . . what? That it's PMS? "I guess I was kind of in a bad mood."

"Are you mad at Karen?"

I shrugged. "I just wish she'd knock on my door. You did a good job."

Andrew grinned. "Oh! Good. I don't want you to be in a bad mood. Or more tunnel. Are you coming downstairs?"

"Not now." I replied, patting his head. "Do me a favor and tell my mom I don't feel good?"

"Okay. Do you want me to bring you medicine? Or ice cream! I like ice cream when I'm sick."

I smiled. "No, thank you, Andy-poo."

He hopped off my bed and ran for the door. "Okay! Bye!"

"Bye!" I replied, smiling to myself as he quietly closed the door behind him.

I spent the next few minutes waiting for Karen to come back. I figured she'd been the one that sent Andrew in. Sure enough, after about ten minutes, another knock came at my door.

But it wasn't Karen.

Mom opened the door and walked in before I had a chance to ask who it was. She came right to my bed and sat next to me. She put her hand to my forehead. Then she just stared at me. Silently.

I squirmed. "What's up?" Say something. Anything.

"I was going to ask you that myself."

I sighed. My mother is not stupid. She knows I went to a party with Derek. I haven't taken a shower yet (I don't think I can stand upright long enough) so I know I probably reek of cigarettes and alcohol. She's giving me the option of confessing, though. Lord only knows what the consequences would be.

I shrugged. "Not much. Don't feel to good today."

"So I heard." She continued to stare at me, her eyes a mix of anger and . . . amusement? Yeah, I think so. She thinks it's funny? Oh. That I'm suffering. I get it.

"So did you have fun?" She asked. Prodding me. Out with it, Kristy. 'Fess up.

I met her gaze again. Then I let my eyes slide away, to the T.V. "Yeah. It broke up early, though. Pretty tame."

She continued to burn holes into me. She wanted a confession. But will she accuse me?

I kept my eyes on the T.V. Yes, Mom, I'm not telling you something. I know I tell you everything, but things change.

Oh, how things change.

She stared at me for what felt like hours. At last she sighed, shoulders slumping. "I'll bring you some soup." She said, standing up slowly.

Soup. My stomach growled, though in hunger or anger I'm not quite sure. Either way - "No, thanks. I'm really not hungry. I just want to rest."

Mom nodded. She looked . . . well, a lot of things. Sad, disappointed, amused, angry. I wonder what this is like for her. I wonder how old she was the first time she drank. Was she as young as I? Younger? Did she wait until she was 21 and legal? She was already married to my dad by then. Probably not.

For the first time in my life, I wondered what my mother was like in high school. Not personality wise, but experience-wise. Alcohol, drugs, sex . . . I wondered.

Would she tell me if I asked? She'd talked about sex with me once. One time. All she really said was that I had to wait, to get through high school and go to college and not be stupid and get pregnant when I'm twenty like she did. That was last year, not too long after Dad's wedding. She must not have been feeling too great about him at the moment.

Can I ask her?

The moment passed and Mom quietly left the room. I wished I knew how she was - if I'm normal, if I'm being too fast, if the fact that I'm already picturing sex with Derek is weird or not. Not that I'm gonna do it - but it has crossed my mind several times in the last week. He's done it. Eventually, he may expect the same from me.

Six months ago all I thought about were sports and kids, with the occasional fight with my friends and dance with Bart thrown in. How did life get so complicated? Why didn't anyone tell me that things change so dramatically in high school? Sam never mentioned it, Charlie never mentioned it . . .

Is it high school? Or is it me? I wondered this for the millionth time. I thought about Charlie, in college. Things must be SO different for him already . . .

I snagged my cell phone from my night stand and brought up Charlie's dorm number. It took me a few minutes to get him to the phone, but once he was on he had gotten very excited to hear from me. So we'd started talking.

"Yikes, kiddo. What a week." Charlie said with a laugh. He almost had to shout over the chatter in the hall around him. He'd told me about life in college so far - pretty much party after party, with the occasional homework thrown in. "Girls everywhere." He'd said, sighing happily.

I, in turn, had told him about life in highschool so far. Even Derek. Not every little intimate detail, of course, but enough to where he got the idea. That's when he'd said "Yikes."

"It feels good to tell somebody. I mean, my new friends are cool and all, but . . . it's really good to talk to you, Charlie." I blurted.

"I'm glad you called me. Mom would kill you, think you were turning into her. Sam's still too immature about this stuff. I took him to a party last year and gave him a few drinks? He freaked out. He's the same way with girls. He talks the talk, but when it comes down to the wire, he gets scared. I really thought you would end up being like him. Guess I was wrong."

I laughed. "Two weeks ago that's how I would have told you I would end up. I don't know what's happening to me."

Charlie scoffed. "I do. You're normal, after all. I did the same shit freshman year, Kris. Mom doesn't know that. Sam doesn't really know that much, either. I started going to parties and drinking, getting high, all that, before Christmas."

I don't remember seeing a change in Charlie. "You hid it well."

"Because I am the master. I'll teach you, Grasshopper. Do you know how to sneak out of the house yet?"

"That didn't even occur to me . . . "

"Trust me, it will. Remind me to tell you about it sometime, it's fucking genius." I winced at that word. I've never heard my brother talk like this before. Was it because he thought I was too goody-goody? Had Charlie been hiding his real self all this time?

How awful.

How depressing. I'm going to end up the same way.

"Sam hates Derek." I said out of nowhere.

"Well I figured he would. He's, like, the anti-Sam. Everything Sam wants to be, all the stuff he considers 'cool,' Derek's already done, and he's a year younger than him."

"He's always calling him a loser."

Again, Charlie scoffed. "Higgins is pretty cool, from what I remember. He hangs out with a lot of musicians. They're just a much different crowd than Sam's JV jocks."

I nodded to myself, remembering Rob and Kyle and the other guy last night. "Yeah, I met some of Derek's friends last night. They were pretty good, actually."

There was a pause. Then Charlie's voice, muffled. He came back on, sounding annoyed. "I gotta go, Kris. There's a ten minute rule, and I have most certainly exceeded it."

I almost wanted to cry. "Well . . . call me back soon, okay? Or I'll call you. Promise me we'll talk at least once a week, okay?"

"You got it, kid. I'll talk to you soon. Don't let the family bring you down!" he shouted as he hung up.

I lowered my phone, shutting it and sighing. I slumped back down into bed. I missed Charlie. Even more, now that I knew we were so much alike.

I hugged my pillow, staring at my wall.

My door flew open.

"Kristy! Andrew said you're not--"

I sat up quickly. My head pounded. "Karen! Did I not ask you to knock earlier?"

She froze. "Yes. But-"

"But what? You thought since a little time went by I'd forget? Out, Karen. I do not feel good."

She stood in place, staring at me.

"Out!" I said a little louder.

"I just want to play with you . . . " it was almost a whisper.

"Well, I don't want to play. You'll be here for a month, we have plenty of time for that. Now will you please leave me alone?"

Still, she stood there. "But Andrew said you weren't mad. He said you were nice."

"Well, Andrew had enough sense to knock on my door." I replied through gritted teeth. "You should follow his example."

Ouch. Right where it hurts. Dare I suggest Karen is acting immature. Her face switched from sad to angry immediately. She puffed up. "I am _NOT--_"

"OUT!" I shouted before she could throw a tantrum. Karen spun around, her face red with anger. "_Meanie!_" She shouted back, running out the door.

I stuck my tongue out at the door as she slammed it. She didn't see me do it, of course.

Wow, Thomas. Taking off your shirt with Derek and sticking your tongue out at an eight-year-old all within twenty-four hours. Confused about your age or what?


	9. Chapter 9

_a/n: very short, i know. but i wanted to let everybody know that Iihaven't abandoned this story. i've just been busy with the possibility of falling in love lately :) once that initial heat is over, i will attempt to resume updating weekly. it's kinda strange that i can't seem to write, being that i'm falling for a guy i never thought possible who's from "the wrong side of the tracks" and has a car he drives but no drivers license... lol, my life has become this story! (he is so much more amazing than i just made him sound, just need to clarify.)_

_-happily, 11oo1_

* * *

Nine.

I spent Saturday in bed. Lounging, watching TV, waiting for Derek to call me (no way was I going to call him first. I don't know why.) And feeling like utter crap. Later in the day I felt better physically, but as my head began to clear... well, my head began to clear.

Guilt nagged me at the edges. I'd been kind of mean to Karen. I've been lying to my mother. I spent the night before doing things that Kristy Thomas would _never_ do. My club was gone. My childhood friends were gone. I spent the evening going back and forth in my head between feeling liberated and feeling... dumb.

I've spent so much of my life determined to control everything around me. I will do things this way, I will have these friends, I will be in charge, I am right. For some reason, in the past two weeks I've let all of that go. I can't figure out why. And that is driving me up the wall. I used to think I knew myself, and everyone around me, very well. As it turns out, I was wrong. Obviously. About everything.

So I stayed in bed, thinking. Wanting it all to come to me, a flash of Kristy brilliance. Ah! This is why! Now I can fix it!

Did that happen? Of course not.

A part of me is still wishing to be back in eighth grade. But another part, and dare I say, a bigger part, kind of likes where things are heading. I've done things the same for so long. Same friends, same clothes, same hair, same hobbies, same bossy, know-it-all, goody-two-shoes Kristy. Sure, occasionally I'd slip, be a little bad, change it up. Then, a day later, I would be the same old Kristy, learning from my slight moral dilemma and growing stronger, like an episode of _Full House_ or something. All that's been missing from my life is cheesy background music and an audience going "_Awwwwww!_" when I learned my lesson.

I fell asleep early that night, still not hearing from Derek. I shed a few tears for the BSC. But I did not have my life figured out.

* * *

I woke early Sunday morning to the sun shining in my windows. Just how I like it. It felt good. I turned on my radio and danced a little as I dressed - jeans and a T-shirt. It's Sunday, after all. 

I smelled bacon just minutes after I finished getting dressed and ran downstairs, to the kitchen, where my two little brothers and two little sisters were seated at the table, talking loudly and giggling. Sam was probably still asleep. When Karen saw me she stopped mid-laughter and turned her head, her nose up ever so slightly. Fine. I'll give her her space. She'll get over it.

I sat down next to Emily Michelle, who grinned at me. "Kissy!" She exclaimed. It's how she says my name. I think it's adorable.

I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Hi, baby girl. What are you eating?"

Emily looked down at her tray and picked up the spoon that was resting in a bowl of Trix. "Rabbit." She said seriously, then raised the spoon to her mouth. Andrew laughed loudly. Emily giggled in return, spraying milk out of her mouth. Mom set a glass of orange juice in front of me.

"Feeling better, honey?" She asked, casually wiping Emily's mouth with a napkin.

"Much!" I said brightly. I _did_ feel better. I don't know why. Did I make some unknown decision in my sleep?

"Good. How many pancakes do you want?"

I glanced past her toward Watson. Pancakes. My stomach growled. I'm _starving._ "I guess four or so."

"I want five!" Andrew exclaimed.

"I'll have twenty." David Michael added with a smirk.

"Twenty!" Emily exclaimed, spraying milk and now chewed up Trix.

Andrew burst out laughing again. "Emily Michelle, you're funny!"

Emily grinned and stuffed another spoonful into her mouth.

I sat back, smiling. I love the chaos of my family. It occurred to me that I haven't seen them much these past two weeks. My smile faltered a little, and I glanced at Karen, who was busily scanning the newspaper comics.

"What's Garfield up to?" I asked casually.

Karen looked up at me, rolled her eyes dramatically, and looked back at the newspaper without saying a word.

I sighed. She'll get over it.

After breakfast, the kids and I picked up a game of softball in the backyard. Well, not really a game. It pretty much consisted of me pitching to my brothers and Emily chasing the ball shrieking when they got a piece of it, while Karen sat on the porch with a book looking forlorn. I asked her three times to join in, but she'd just roll her eyes each time and go back to her book.

My cell phone rang in my pocket just as David Michael hit a ball almost to the fence. I flipped it open just as he was shouting "Home ruuuuuuuuuuun!"

"Hello?" I said loudly.

"BAAAALLLLLLLLLL!" Emily boomed, running after it.

"Kristy?"

"Not 'ball'!" David Michael shouted after Emily. "Homer!"

"Who's this?" I asked, plugging my ear to hear better. Emily picked up the ball and threw it to David Michael. It went about four feet. She laughed, shrieked, and ran to pick it up and throw it again.

"It's Claudia."

My heart nearly stopped. Claud. Why is she calling me? Don't they all hate me? Did something bad happen? I walked away from the shouting. "Is everything okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, everything's fine."

We were both silent for a few uncomfortable moments.

"I... I just wanted to see how you were doing." She stammered.

"Oh. I'm fine. How are you?" God. This is how I talk to someone I've known since I was a baby?

"Fine. I just wanted you to know, I talked to pretty much all of our clients. They seemed to understand. Nobody was upset."

"Oh. That's good."

Uncomfortable silence.

"Do you really think this is for good?" She asked in a small voice.

"Claud, it was for the best. I mean, we obviously don't see eye to eye anymore. You guys haven't been very understanding of what I've been... been going through." Ugh. I sound like an idiot.

"I never did anything to you." She sounded irritated now. "You're lumping me in with Stacey and Mary Anne. I can think for myself, Kristy."

Ouch. She was right. "Okay. I'm sorry. You really haven't done anything wrong..." I sat down in the grass, running my hand over it.

"And really, neither have they. Mary Anne's pissed because you've been blowing her off. And Stacey's mad because you let Miranda call her a bitch. That's pretty much it. We're just surprised at how much you changed all of a sudden. I mean, I think it's cool, but... it just happened so fast!"

"I know." I replied, laying down. I closed my eyes. "I know."

"I don't want us to stop being friends. I know Mary Anne's going to hold a grudge and you probably can't tolerate Stacey, but I don't want to lose you, Kristy." She was on the verge of tears.

I was a little choked up myself. "Oh, Claud. Of course we can still be friends. I love you, you know I do. I'm sorry about breaking up the club, I know how much it hurt you. It's hurting me a lot, too, believe me." I opened my eyes and shielded them from the sun. "Why don't you come have lunch with Miranda and Ashley and I tomorrow at school? I mean, Ashley's your friend, Miranda's your friend..."

Claudia took a deep breath. Composing herself. "I might. I don't know. The way Stace is freezing you out, I'm afraid she might do the same to me. I can think for myself, but maybe I should wait until things cool down to make a move that bold." She said that last part with a laugh. I laughed, too, and suddenly felt lighter. A weight, lifting. Maybe I _can_ do this. Maybe I can have it all.

At that moment Emily Michelle began to wail, and I sat up and saw David Michael quickly giving the ball to her. She threw it down and cried louder. "Gotta go avert a crisis, Claud. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure." She said, sounding pretty happy.

I snapped my phone shut and stood. David Michael looked guilty. Emily had thrown herself to the ground and was screaming. Andrew had retrieved the ball and was throwing up in the air and trying to catch it. Karen rolled her eyes and read her book.

I was smiling anyway.

* * *

Later in the afternoon, I hooked Shannon the dog to her leash and led her across the street. She pulled me eagerly, excited to see her mother. When we reached the door, Shannon began barking. I rang the door bell, and moments later heard muffled barking from the other side. Astrid, answering her daughter. Shannon began to hop around, whining. I laughed. 

The door flew open and Shannon the person stood there, grinning. Astrid bolted outside and the two dogs greeted each other happily. "I figured it was you." Shannon said, waving a leash. "Astrid practically started speaking. You want to take them for a walk?"

"Yeah. It's a nice day. Plus I wanted to talk to you." I replied, stumbling as Shannon the dog yanked especially hard.

Shannon looked curious as she closed the door behind her, wrestling her excited dog still for a moment to hook the leash to her collar. We started down the walkway, the dogs eagerly leading us.

"What's up?" Shannon asked after we had reached the sidewalk. Mother and daughter relaxed and slowed down.

"I broke up the club." I blurted.

Shannon nodded. "Not much of a surprise. Not the way they were treating you."

"I don't know. I think I might have been overreacting. I talked to Claudia today."

"Don't let them guilt trip you, Kristy. You know damn well they weren't treating you right. Well, I don't know about Claudia, but the other two..." She said "other two" as if she were referring to worms. I was surprised at the look on Shannon's face. She was visibly upset. About the club? About how they treated me?

"Maybe..." I said, looking down. Tears stung my eyes for the billionth time in two days.

"Hey." Shannon said gently, placing her free hand on my back. "Don't be sad. Good riddance to them. They are nasty, judgmental girls. I'm just glad _you_ aren't like that."

I met her eyes. There was something there, something deep down, that she wasn't saying. I fought the urge, that Kristy urge, to ask her what she was hiding. I wonder if she's always been hiding something. I wonder why I never bothered to get to know her better. Yeah, I know her, and I consider her a friend, but... do I know anything _about_ her?

Shannon smiled, and there was a sadness in it. She looked away quickly, to the dogs. "Want to take them to the park?"

"Sure." It was almost a mumble. I was lost in a haze of thoughts and fighting the urge to be nosy. We turned a corner, and I wondered how I would get to know my friend a little better.


	10. Chapter 10

**a/n -**_ what's this? WHAT'S THIS? did you guys give up on me? i'm sorry... but i'm back. yay! and here is another chapter, yay! hope it's up to par. i haven't written much in the past 8 months or so, i may be a little rusty. hope you like it! thanks to all of my reviewers for badgering me! - 11oo1  
_

* * *

Ten.

When my alarm clock blared its music Monday morning, my eyes were already open.

"I'm not . . . O.. kay . . . " a male singer wailed.

_No,_ I thought. _I'm not._

I'd spent the entire weekend waiting for him to call, and when he didn't I spent the night tossing and turning, wondering why. Had I done something wrong? Maybe he'd just gotten what he'd wanted and moved on. Off to prey on some other poor, confused freshman.

I didn't really believe that. It's not like I'd slept with him. It's not like I'd resisted much, either. You're supposed to be strong, Thomas. What is up with you?

I sighed and pulled my weak-willed self out of bed. Instead of heading for the bathroom to turn on my curling iron, I went downstairs. I could smell coffee. I've never been a big coffee fan, but this was an occasion that called for it.

The kitchen was quiet, and the coffeepot was full. Watson sets it for five in the morning so it's ready when he gets out of the shower. I grabbed an oversized cup, dumped a ton of cream and sugar in it, and filled it to the brim with coffee. I sipped the scalding hot liquid as I carefully and quietly headed back upstairs. Watson wouldn't mind. He never finished it anyway.

I brought my drink into the bathroom and scrutinized myself in the mirror. I am _not_ in the mood for primping today, never mind that I look like I haven't slept. Sighing, I brushed my hair and left it straight. I swiped a small amount of mascara on listlessly. I chose an outfit that would surely make Miranda cringe - jeans and a baggy red T-shirt. My heart just wasn't in it.

Not shockingly, it only took me a few minutes to accomplish all of this. So I spent the rest of my time sipping my coffee and flipping through t.v. channels, butterflies doing back flips in my stomach. What if something bad happened to him? What if he's in the hospital, lying in a coma, and I'm sitting here thinking about him as a jerk. What if he's _dead_?

A little dramatic, Thomas.

But possible nonetheless. I felt a little better, then felt a little morbid. It would be a relief to know he wasn't just blowing me off, but to feel better knowing he could be dead? What kind of monster am I?

I drained the last of my coffee, wondering exactly when I lost my mind. Sometime over summer? The first day of school? Maybe Friday night. I felt pretty normal up until Friday. Just a little restless about how my life had been going. Now I felt like I should be in a padded room. I feel like I was thirteen, wearing the same clothes and acting the same way, for years. In reality, it was only just over a year ago, in seventh grade, before mom got married, that I was till wearing jumpers, dressed like a schoolgirl every day. A mirror image of Mary Anne. Honestly, I don't know what's up with my friends in the BSC . . . or rather my former friends in the former BSC. Everyone, including me, freaked out throughout eighth grade when another one of us would change, but things always went back to normal.

Somehow, I doubt things will be the same this time around.

I began to feel tense. I took a deep breath and counted to ten. Shannon taught me this. She said she uses it to calm down when everything starts to feel too overwhelming. Shannon's probably the smartest person I know (even smarted than frumpy old Janine Kishi) so I gave it a shot.

After counting to ten ten times, I headed for the bus stop. Abby and Anna were there already. I turned up my headphones and avoided their eyes.

This is not a problem I choose to deal with right now.

* * *

"_What_ are you wearing?" a shrill voice demanded from behind me. I groaned inwardly, closing my locker. "Miranda, not now . . . "

"No, no, this is unacceptable. This is an outrage. This-" she cut off as I turned to face her. "Hey. Are you okay?" She asked, her voice softening immediately.

"The jerk didn't call!" I blurted, ready to unload it on someone. "After all that - Friday, I mean - he didn't call? I mean . . . I mean . . . "

"Oh, Kristy!" Miranda wrapped her arms around me. "What an asshole! You want me to have him beat up? I know a guy."

I shrugged, not amused at her joke. If it was a joke. Maybe she does know a guy.

"Kristy! Hey! Babe! Kristy!"

I gritted my teeth. Miranda pulled away made a face at me. "I know that voice."

"God."

"Look, just tell him like it is. Pull that crap and no phone call? No, sir. You are Kristy, hear you roar!" She was almost shouting. I wanted to stop her, but . . . it's pointless. Besides, this was the first time I'd felt like smiling today.

"Babe?" Derek asked from behind me. Miranda made another face, this time at him. She looked at me.

"Go. It's cool." I said, fighting the smile. Mad. I'm mad. Angry. Pissed off. He didn't call.

"Go battle evil somewhere else, Miranda." Came his voice again. I still had my back to him. I felt his hand brush my shoulder. "Kris?"

Miranda bounced away, off to thwart some new evil plot. I sighed heavily. This would be so much easier if I could just let her talk for me. I can't seem to find words. This is a very unusual problem.

"I'm sorry I didn't call you-" was as far as he got before the bell rang. He looked frustrated. Good. "Come on, screw homeroom. Let's go outside."

I don't like skipping classes, even homeroom. In fact, I don't think I like Derek himself that much right now.

I looked at him, finally. His eyes were sad. His mouth was worried. He looked like a puppy.

I do like dogs.

"Fine." I said shortly, walking down the hall.

Derek followed me, already talking. "I'm really sorry I didn't call, Kris. I should have, especially after . . . well, you know." He smiled at my lopsidedly as we reached the outside. "I do have a reason though." He added, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

"Being?" I asked, resisting an Old Kristy urge to knock the cigarettes out of his hand.

"My Dad." He said, then paused to light one. "He was up when I got home Friday. Wasn't too happy that I was drunk. And driving." He shrugged. "We got into it. He wouldn't let me leave the house or use the phone all weekend. Suddenly he's a disciplinarian." Derek scoffed at that last word.

"You got into it?" I asked, worried about what that meant.

"He pushed me, I swung at him . . . he was drunk. He always is. We get into it a lot. No big deal."

I was astounded. I couldn't picture Sam and Watson "getting into it." The man shoved his own son? "Derek are you . . . are you okay?"

He gave me a weird look. "Yeah. Why?"

I hugged him. Did his dad beat him up? God, I hope not. Poor baby. "Do you want to go to Pizza Express tonight?" I asked, sensing he didn't want to talk about it anymore.

"Sure. I missed you all weekend." He replied, smiling.

"I missed you, too." I said, wishing I'd taken better care of how I looked this morning. We stayed outside until homeroom let out, catching up on the two days we'd missed. When I dashed into the room for English, I calmly told Mr. Glassman that I'd missed my bus and had to wait for a ride.

He grinned. "Was that your twin I saw out in the hall, then?"

Uh-oh. "Oh. Uhm. Mr. Glassman, I'm sorry, it's just--"

He waved his hand. "I don't want to hear it. Relax. You get one freebie. Be a little more honest next time, Kristy." Still smiling, he turned to the whiteboard.

I could hear cackling from the back of the room. I turned and gave Miranda a dirty look. Even Ashley was laughing a little, something I haven't seen her do much.

"Busted, Thomas? You lameass." Miranda called as I strode to my seat next to her. Mr. Glassman cleared his throat loudly, not turning away from the board.

"The English language is a beautiful thing, and I reserve my first amendment right to use all of it." She shot back.

"Don't you have a first period class you should be getting to?" Mr. Glassman asked, still not turning around.

"Yeah, yeah." Miranda groaned good-naturedly. She and Mr. Glassman had developed an awesome relationship in the short time we'd been in his homeroom. She liked him, as a teacher, a mentor, a friend, and a bit of a crush. She tended to stick around until the last second, chatting with Ashley and I, arguing with him. "I think I'd like to be just like Glassman when I get old." She told us this morning. "A teacher. A _cool_ teacher."

"I do believe you have to be smart to be a teacher." Ashley immediately drawled in reply.

Miranda pretended to glare at Ashley, then smiled at me as I sat down. "All better?"

"Just fine." I replied.

"Good. I expect full details in algebra."

"Uh, how about at lunch? It's kind of private."

"Not private enough not to tell us, just private enough not to do it in front of him?" Ashley added in.

"Boy, you're a riot today." Miranda told her sarcastically.

"I'm trying something new. I really need a 'thing.' Unspeakably quick-witted seems like a fun one." Ashley replied seriously.

I gaped at her. "You are so weird."

"Me? Didn't you once attend a dance dressed as a lobster?"

Miranda burst out laughing and stood up. "Oh my God! I forgot about that!"

"It was in the yearbook." Alan Gray called out.

We all ignored him. Miranda continued to laugh as she walked out of the classroom. I gave Ashley a withering look, but could not hide my smile. The bell rang.

Another week began.

* * *

I ran into Claudia between third and fourth period. She stopped to chat with me. We spoke as if nothing was wrong. It was great, up until Mary Anne and Stacey walked by, both giving us dirty looks. Claud rolled her eyes at me and shrugged, running after them. Poor Claud. I hoped Mary Anne and Stacey didn't give her too much crap about still being friends with me. Looking back at the outright bitchiness of all the girls in the BSC, including myself . . . uhg. It's not fun to deal with.

What a bunch of snobs we were. I used to claim to hate snobs. Kind of creepy that I turned out to be one.

When I got to algebra, neither Derek nor Miranda was there. Derek finally hurried in just as the bell rang, but I could see Miranda still standing in the doorway, arguing heatedly with her twin. Not loudly. I wondered what it was about. They don't seem all that close anymore. They don't really look much alike anymore, either. Mariah was plain and sort of quiet, while Miranda was . . . well, Miranda.

School, for the most part, was boring. Derek wasn't done with my CD, because apparently Internet use had been restricted from him this weekend, too. Lunch was uneventful, and I told my friends the short version of why Derek hadn't called quickly before he came to our table. I left out the stuff about getting into it with his dad. That was too personal. Miranda cursed at me a few times because she knew I was leaving something out.

At the end of the day, I passed Mary Anne in the hallway and she stuck her tongue out at me. I just shook my head. Poor Mary Anne. Would she ever grow up, grow out of it?

It felt a little funny, thinking about her like that. She's . . . well, she's Mary Anne, after all. I thought we were going to grow up together, always be best friends. Now I'm looking at her and thinking _what a brat. _

That's what's become of our friendship.

At Pizza Express, I ran into none other than Jessica Ramsey and Mallory Pike. They looked giddy and a little scared. Both of them were wearing heavy make-up. Mal's hair was a frizzy, semi-straight mess.

She touched it self-consciously, smiling. "My parents got me a straightening iron as a back-to-school gift." She told me. I felt like telling her it hadn't worked. She'd probably been given a cheap metal iron that Miranda had shrieked about and steered me away from when we'd purchased mine.

I smiled back instead. "That's cool."

Mal and Jessi glanced at each other, wide eyed. They both grinned. Jessi had dark red lipstick on her teeth. Mal was wearing an outfit that could only be described as "Claudia Chic," but on her it looked more like she'd just reached into her closet with her eyes closed. Apparently these two's parents had relaxed a little on the rules. Jessi's hair was in a million tiny braids. It didn't look too bad, but she'd pulled them back into a ponytail and had attached a cheap extension hair piece. It was in little braids, too, but they were fatter and darker than Jessi's natural hair.

That's what's become of my club.

It was really hard not to laugh when I noticed the gold necklace around Mallory's neck, and the fact that it spelled out her name. It was a step up from the jumper, at least.

I got away from them as quickly as possible. Derek was already sitting at a table. A song I like, called "Dirty Little Secret," played on the jukebox. I bobbed my head. Derek groaned and kissed me on the cheek. I felt twelve-year-old eyes burning into me from across the room. If Mal looked any more envious, her eyes would pop out.

My how things change.


	11. Chapter 11

_a/n - BOO! did I scare you? I mean, it's only been like 4 years since I updated, right? This is short, really just a few minutes between kristy and miranda after a party. I'm interested to see what people think, if anyone wants me to keep going. I've had quite a few requests to continue this and my other stories. :)_

_eleven._

_three months later._

I grunted under Miranda's weight. This girl wears a size zero, how is she so heavy?

"HA!" Miranda shouted, stumbling over what I'm sure was nothing. I could smell her breath, reeking with liquor. "Krissy you're such a good fren."

"Don't I know it." I grumbled, wrapping my arm more tightly around her shoulder. "Try and walk, ok? It's hard to hold you up, I don't want you to fall."

"I like Shannon." Miranda said with a giggle. I rolled my eyes. She and Shannon had spent most of the party hanging all over each other, kissing occasionally, to the delight of every guy in the house. It was just a random "Christmas" party thrown by some Junior, and when I say "Christmas," I mean, you know, there were lights.

Miranda veered left suddenly, and we were standing in the middle of the street. I dragged her back to the sidewalk and sat her down. "Are you sure you don't need your jacket? It's freezing."

"I'm SO hot, though." Miranda said, grabbing her hair and pulling it back from her face. I could see beads of sweat on her forehead, and wondered if she was okay. It couldn't have been more than twenty degrees out. I gently put her jacket over her shoulders, just in case.

Miranda smiled at me. "I'm okay." She shook her head. "Crazy night, huh?"

Maybe for her. My night hadn't been half as crazy. When she and Shannon decided to get crazy, Ashley and I had agreed to keep an eye on them. Which immediately had become a full-time job. Between the make-out session, the dirty dancing, and Miranda wanting to go streaking, Ashley and I hadn't had much fun. Now she was dragging Shannon to her house and I was dragging Miranda to mine. I hadn't wanted to risk Shannon's parents peeking out the blinds and seeing . . . something. Derek had disappeared around ten, his father enforcing a strict curfew for some reason or other. Probably for getting suspended again. He's been skipping class way too much.

I leaned back on my hands, ignoring the stinging cold of the concrete sidewalk beneath me. Looking up at the stars, I exhaled slowly. Thinking too much again, Thomas. Ashley and Shannon had both recommended deep breathing exercises at an intervention of sorts - one day at Rosebud, over sundaes. Too intense, my friends had decided. They wanted me to relax a bit, and let myself live. I had agreed. I mean, hell, I've gone as far as drinking, messing around with my boyfriend with no clothes on, staying out late and even smoking pot - twice! - and they were right. It was time for me to get out of my head. In the past month or so I've let things go - like grudges with Mary Anne and Stacey, who were still acting like brats, according to Claudia. Like losing the BSC - it was just a club after all, and I have a life now that it's gone. Like caring what my family thought about EVERYTHING I do - Charlie has been a big help with that, and he's given me the most sound advice of all; the family is too big, nobody cares. And he's right. Mom noticed something was up at first, but she quickly let it blow over and attributed it to being a teenager. Like nagging Derek about all of his little flaws - yes, I even gave that up. Going with the flow is my new lease on life, how I handle things.

It's killing me.

I have opinions on all of this. Mary Anne and Stacey? Need to GROW UP and get over it. Claudia and I still get along just fine, which means they are just being bratty little kids that are hurt I made new friends. The only reason I grew so close to Shannon, Miranda and Ashley was them abandoning me! Morons! I miss the BSC, of course - the money, the kids, the power! I love to be in charge. I love taking the lead. And I don't even do that in my new group of friends! Miranda, she is by far and away the leader of our pack, and I let it happen, as much as it irks me. My family not caring that I've basically turned into a completely different person? Who would that not bother? Even Sam doesn't care anymore, he sticks with his crowd, I stick with mine, and we pretty much ignore each other. I call Charlie once a week to unload all of this on him, to make confessions about what I've been doing - not so much the naked stuff, but he gets that I've been . . . you know . . . bad. And Derek? Derek is the antithesis of who I used to be - of who I, of course, still am under the surface, and he's so cute and I adore him but his rebel ways are really starting to bug me, sometimes I think it's all an act–

"Ahem."

I looked away from the stars, at Miranda, whose eyes were a bit more clear. She was glaring at me. "You're doing it again."

I sat forward quickly, and exhaled slowly again. My hands were numb from the cold. "Sorry. I was just–"

"Thinking, yeah I figured." Miranda grinned. "Stop. Just be here with me, now. Please?"

I gave her a little smile and grabbed her hands to warm my own. Sometimes I wonder if maybe I'm losing it. I can't ever seem to stop dwelling and go from happy to sad in an instant. I get it, I'm a teenager, but do I REALLY have to go into a depression? Am I that stereotypical?

"What am I going to do about Shannon?" Miranda wondered aloud.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I just made out with her all night. I wonder if she thinks we have a 'thing' now."

I raised my eyebrow. "You guys were out of your heads."

Miranda threw back her head and laughed. "Kristy! Are you blind? Shannon is gay!"

"Gay?" I asked. Like she was speaking a foreign language. I've never known a gay person before. "How do you know?"

She shrugged, smiling. "I just do." She tapped the side of her head. "Excellent gaydar. Plus she told me a little while ago. She was drunk, told me I was pretty, asked if she could kiss me because she likes girls but never got to kiss one."

Where the hell was I when all of this was happening? How do I not know one of my closest friends is gay? I pushed back the tiniest twinge of jealousy - she's known me longer, after all. Do my friends feel like they can't tell me things? Why–

"Kristy! Me, we're talking about me, focus."

I shook the thoughts out of my head and focused. "Do you like her, too?" was all I could think of.

Miranda shrugged, tossing a pebble into the street. "I'm not gay. I guess I could be Bi, I had a lot of fun with her. It was way different then kissing a boy, it was . . . " she paused for a moment, contemplating the right word.

"Better?"

"Nicer." She said, shaking her head. "Boys are always so eager. This wasn't. It was just . . . nice."

"And she likes you?"

"I think so. I love Shannon, I do. I guess I could give it a shot." Just like that. I guess I'll take some time off from boys and start dating a girl, no biggie. Ugh, how does she _do_ that?

"What about . . . " I gestured in a circle. What about people. In general. What they'll think. I didn't want to finish asking because it was so stupid to do. Miranda doesn't care what people think.

"Who cares? I can do what I want. I'm a teenager." She grinned, digging into her purse. "And right now this teenager wants a cigarette. Have one." She added, tossing it to me.

"But–"

"Shhh."

"Miranda I don't–"

She flicked her lighter. "Kristy. Just smoke the fucking cigarette. I'm having an epiphany, be supportive."

I leaned forward and allowed her to light it, blowing the smoke out without inhaling. It was a menthol, and cool on my tongue. Out of sheer curiosity of how it felt to inhale, I took a drag. Miranda laughed as I breathed out, looking at the cigarette with fascination. "It's... kind of yummy."

"Right! Like inhaling a piece of gum, I know."

"But it tastes and smells so bad when someone else does it."

She snorted. "That will go away. You're going to get a great head rush, too. It's like pot but... shorter. And more intense."

I took another drag. Short and intense. That's me alright.


End file.
